


Lost and Found

by amidmind



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Humor, I want Alistair back as a companion, My First Fanfic, Romance, Slow Build, Struggle of Command, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 109,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidmind/pseuds/amidmind
Summary: Gwen Trevelyan, a quirky circle mage, lost her friends and lover in the disaster at the Conclave. She pressed on with her duty, until an equally quirky Grey Warden came into her life. Can they make something of this bond they’ve shared? Features a hardened, unromanced, (in DA:O), Grey Warden Alistair.Pairings: F!MageTrevelyan/AlistairSlight AU, slow build-story, M for romance in the later Chapters.





	1. Down to Business

xXXXx

 

13 Drakonis 9:41 Dragon

Skyhold: Day of arrival

 

As the Inquisitor walked through the great double doors, her weary eyes wandered to her elven companion, who halted with her. “This place needs a lot of work.”

Solas only nodded, his mouth turning up at the corner, hinting at a smirk. “Would you prefer we return to Haven?”

She sighed at the poor attempt to veil his sarcasm. “Fair point.”

Rays of morning sun shone into the dark main hall of Skyhold, and Gwen Trevelyan knelt to pick up a damp rock with her gloved hands. Thumbing the mossy surface, she tossed it into a large pile of rubble. Shaking her head, her dark hair curtained her face for a moment before she brushed it behind her ear and looked up to a hole in the roof.

“Dwarves will be useful for repairs. We'll need to get in contact with masons and roofers too.”

“Indeed.” Solas intoned.

The Inquisitor rose to her feet, walking toward her fellow mage who stood in silhouette against the sunlight. On her way, she pulled her journal from the pack hanging over her shoulder, and tapped it against her thigh. “I should write this down, but my advisors will most likely have additional input; I’m going to find them.”

He turned a questioning eye toward her. “Do you require my services as a guide for the day?”

Gwen smiled. “Go rest. Perhaps tonight we can review my notes, if you don’t mind.”

“As always, Herald... pardon me, it’s _Inquisitor_ now.” The mage smiled, turning to face his cohort as she stood in profile.

“Yes—that’s what they’re calling me.” The woman nearly whispered, her eyes caught on the newly placed, waving flag with the Inquisition insignia on it, positioned high on the battlements across the courtyard below. “It still feels strange, leading these people… months ago I was a criminal, then a religious icon, now _this_ …”

Solas listened as she trailed off, saying nothing, his arms held behind his back in his usual posture.

Her wide, sage-green eyes lost focus and fluttered closed. “I’m happy to lead them, of course.” Gwen shook her head and forced a smile.

Solas moved further into the main hall, stepping carefully around the debris on the floor. Gwen’s eyes turned away from the light of day and followed his movements.

His lips thinned into an understanding smile. “I believe in you, and many more share my belief, or were you ignorant of the triumphant cries during your inauguration?”

Gwen flashed the elf a humble smile.

"I plan to settle in for the rest of the day, perhaps explore the keep, but you may come to me tonight if you wish it and as I said, I promise a full review of the day's events for your codices.”

“Where will you be?”

Solas raised his hand to point to one of the doors leading away from the main hall. “Behind that door, lies a three-story rotunda; there is an aerie on the third floor, a library on the second floor, and I shall make the first floor my own.”

Gwen’s eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted in interest. Her voice came soft, laden with childlike curiosity. “Wait, a library?”

Solas chuckled warmly. “Yes, a well-stocked one at that.”

Her green eyes dropped to the floor and she took a retreating step into the sunlight. Bracing her arm against the large door frame, she paused. “If only I had the time to peruse it.”

“Perhaps in the days to come. There is much to discover here and should you need anything, you now know where I will be found.” Solas’ calm voice came from behind her, but she didn't turn.

“Someday you must tell me how you found this place.”

He stepped forward to stand beside her again, looking out across the expanse of the fortress before answering quietly. “Perhaps.”

 

.

 

16 Drakonis 9:41 Dragon

Skyhold

 

With a slight skip in his step, Varric ascended the stairs to the battlements. The Inquisitor followed slowly, her curiosity sated as she laid eyes on the man before her: The Champion of Kirkwall and rumored pain in the ass, Hawke.

“This is her?” The rogue Hawke looked her up and down critically, and pushed himself up from the balustrade.

“Be _nice._ She’s here to help.” Varric gritted his teeth and tensed.

“How so? I thought the information _I_ have is meant to help _her_.”

“The rumors are true, then: you are an ass.” Gwen pinched her brows at Hawke.

The man glowered and ran a gloved hand over his long black hair, partially tied to keep the strands from falling into his face. Narrow eyes sought Varric. “We have a contact, our friend, he’s… got information about your _Corypheus._ ”

“Tell me more.” Gwen pulled a journal from the bag slung on her shoulder and readied her ink and quill. Looking into the man's pale blue eyes, she nodded expectantly.

“Eager, are we?” Hawke leaned back on his elbows against the stone wall and smirked. “I work better after a drink or two. What would you say to continuing this in that building there? I heard from the Qunari, it's where the ale is being stored currently.”

Gwen dropped her journal to her side and corked her ink, irritated. “Look, I have a lot of work to do, if this is some sort of jest…” She lowered her eyebrows at Varric, and rolled her eyes when she saw the dwarf rubbing his hand down his face with the same irritation.

“You either have information or you don't. The Inquisition isn't a free for all, and you most certainly won't get any perks for showing up empty handed.”

“I'm not sure I can trust you.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “And why not? Who exactly is this person?”

Hawke glanced over to Varric suspiciously. “He's being hunted by his order. I'm not sure it's safe.”

“Your devotion is admirable, but we can help.”

Varric interjected. “Trev is alright; we can trust her, Hawke. _He_ can trust her.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Gwen and after a few moments revealed his informant’s secret identity. “His name is Alistair and he's been branded a rogue Grey Warden and… he's hiding out in Crestwood.”

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened slightly at the name and she scrawled a note in her journal, waiting for the rogue to continue. When he tilted his head at her oddly, she questioned him. “Is that everything?”

“For now.” He narrowed his eyes at her, rising from the parapet again. “I’d prefer to let him do the talking. The two of us split up in Jader. I came here to scout ahead with the promise to meet him, once I saw Varric. My part is done, and I’ll be on my way again by dawn tomorrow.”

“Brilliant.” She shook her head and chuckled coldly. “I’m to trust that his information is good? We have a Grey Warden here already. Why would I need to meet with another?”

“This one’s been in the Anderfels for years, he knows things that only a Warden in the thick with his comrades would know.”

Jotting another note down, she queried, “You said he’s gone rogue?”

“For a damn good reason, Trev.” Varric broke in and met Gwen’s suspicious eyes. “I know Alistair, he’s good people.”

She snickered. “You know just about everyone, don’t you?”

“I’ve been around.”

The Inquisitor opened her mouth to question him again, but Hawke scowled in rebuke and moved to walk around her. “Alistair will fill you in on the finer details once you find us in Crestwood. I’ll have a map to you by day’s end.”

As her eyes followed him down the stairs, she quickly packed up her writing implements. “It’s getting harder and harder to practice tolerance and patience,” she muttered.

 

.

 

"Wait, you mean _the_ Alistair… _my_ Alistair?" Leliana squealed with excitement.

Gwen sat across the desk and relaxed in the chair, her sage-green eyes smiling at the bard's outburst. "That’s what Hawke said, and I came here straight away looking for more information on the man. Do you think it could be him?"

Without any attempt to hide her grin from the Inquisitor, she responded. "I hope it is. Our little motley band had such fun those years ago. To see any of them again would be simply wonderful." She sighed happily and added, "They were such pleasant times."

Gwen stared at her with incredulity. "There was a Blight, Leliana.”

“So there was, but I have always made it my prerogative to see the sunnier side of all things.” Leliana paused, releasing her interlocked her fingers to feel the gold band on her ring finger beneath her glove.

Softly she continued. “Besides, that’s where I met Mihna and during which time we fell in love.”

Gwen lowered her eyes to the floor and sighed, “ _Love_.”

Hardening her eyes, the bard scolded the Inquisitor’s careless disregard of the word. "Does love have no place in our turbulent lives, Gwen?"

“It has no place in _my_ turbulent life.”

“You’re missing out.” The rogue chuckled and let her head fall back. “Those times I felt more free than I ever have before. There was time for dilly dallying, singing and games by the campfire, and endless cold nights in a warm tent, skin-to-skin—”

"Leliana! Please don’t scandalize the Hero of Ferelden. I just won't listen to it." The Inquisitor feigned a gasp and made to rise.

Leliana laughed, reached across the table, and gently placed a hand on Gwen's. "Stay! I promise I won't go into all the tawdry details.”

She sat back down immediately, giving the redhead a wary look in the process.

With a sadness in her eyes she stated, “Let us enjoy our brief interlude of freedom from our duty. We won't have these moments forever, my friend."

There was a pause for a few minutes and Gwen twirled her finger around a thick piece of chestnut brown hair. In the time it took her to wrap its silky length around her finger, she silently debated whether to go about her duties or stay and converse with Leliana.

Of course, the spy was right: how many times before she joined the Inquisition had she rushed away to study or practice when she should have spent that time with her loved ones. Now all she had were the cold memories of them, which were a sad substitution for the real thing. She smiled wistfully at Leliana and relaxed into her chair once more, still quiet.

The spymaster leaned back in her chair as well, giving Gwen the time needed to make up her mind, yet eager to see the play the Inquisitor would make.

The two had spoken occasionally in Haven and held a mutual respect. Upon returning from Redcliffe, however, Gwen made an attempt each day to visit her. Leliana was far from a fool: she read the reports from Gwen and Dorian's experiences in the alternate future and suspected that she kept returning out of some form of guilt for what happened to the future Leliana. At first she was quite terse with her, but over time the pair truly began to form a friendship.

"Alright, you've convinced me to stay." Gwen sighed and finally voiced.

Leliana smiled warmly at her friend, "If I hadn't, I'd be worried that my skills of persuasion needed brushing up." The spy laughed gaudily.

“What shall we talk about then?”

"Hmm, where were we…? Ah, of course, the exploits with my dear, sweet, elven lover.” The rogue smiled devilishly and waited for her counterpart to respond.

Gwen laughed cheekily, shaking her head.

“You must forgive me.” Leliana lifted her eyebrow, amused. “I forget that you’re an innocent. I wouldn’t want to corrupt your pure thoughts.”

The Inquisitor barked out a laugh, "I am not an innocent. I just don't want you ruining my opinion of her with your explicit stories. She was a hero of mine; someone I looked up to when I was a young girl in the Circle."

“You’re _still_ a young girl, Gwen.” Leliana jabbed lightly. "I have not yet determined the exact level of your innocence, but my skills of observation tell me you lack... experience.”

“I—I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” Gwen flushed and hid her face in her hands. “And I do too have experience!”

Leliana looked at her with disbelief. “Then why have you scorned the advances of a certain _Commander_?"

“Oh, be reasonable, Lel. I’m a busy woman.”

The Spymaster smirked and shook her head slowly. “No, that’s not it. I know you retreat to your quarters immediately after dinner on most days.”

She softened then and looked out the window in the tower. "The truth?”

“I always seek the truth, my dear. You know this.”

“I lost so much… my friends are gone and… there _was_ someone—”

“A lover?” Leliana sat straighter, an amusing glint in her eye. “I may have to eat my former words concerning your naiveté. You have never spoken of this before.”

Gwen released a guarded smile. “Understand that the relationship was… complicated. I knew him for years only as a Templar and it was only a year ago when we started—” she cleared her throat, speaking barely above a whisper, “a romantic relationship.”

Leliana giggled. “You are adorable.”

The woman blushed, and continued on at the bard’s encouraging smile. “When our Circle rebelled, it changed everything, and perhaps not like you'd expect: some of us didn’t want war with the Templars. Along with other Aequitarians, I gathered the young mages and sought out the trustworthy Templars, of which Edmund was the leader. We remained at the Circle and he kept us safe, protected us against the radicals on both sides. Eighteen of us held the Circle for months, thanks to him. He was such a capable man… and I learned much during that time of my life.”

Gwen allowed her gaze to fall to the floor. “Sometimes I think Edmund would have been a far better choice as Inquisitor.”

“Don’t you dare.” Leliana cut in and reprimanded the mage. “The Maker brought _you_ to us; never doubt his will or your own.”

The bard relaxed back into her seat. “Do go on, dear. This is a lovely little story you’re telling me.”

Gwen smiled and fidgeted in her chair, content to finish the story there. “That’s it, really.”

“Tell me about Edmund, then,” Leliana asked softly.

The woman nodded slowly, swallowing a lump in her throat. “You must know that romance for mages is forbidden, but it never stopped me from imagining what a normal relationship could be like. I would daydream about my wedding, daily keeping the house, even… nights with my husband, and having children. I did so knowing full well that those things would never happen.”

Feeling a bit more at ease after expressing her inner thoughts, Gwen kept going. “After we reclaimed the Circle, there was little need for a separation of men and women, as there were too few of us left. There were three children to care for, clean-up to be done, and food to prepare, so everyone had to help. It was a far stretch from what I imagined normal life to be, but the closest thing yet in my life.”

“I think I was drawn to Edmund’s kindness at first. He was older than I, quite a traditional Templar, and at first very reluctant to see me as more than a mage under his charge.”

“Yet, somehow you convinced him?”

Gwen laughed and a flush rose to her cheeks. “First there was a friendship, and then an uneasy tension grew between us whenever we were alone. I wouldn’t say I convinced him as much as he allowed it to finally happen, and it was after news of the Conclave came. I think we both realized the world we created was ending.”

The mage smiled sadly. “We had no idea what would happen to the us. Would mages be free? Would the rules be even more stringent than before? The only thing we knew was that soon everything was going to change… and I believe it gave him a freedom to act out on his feelings.”

“How _romantic_.” Leliana crooned.

“Tragic, more like it.”

The brunette turned her head and dropped her chin, letting her hair fall over half her face, as she sighed sadly. “It was still kept secret from the others in our makeshift Circle, so acknowledging it now is… strange. Talking about it, even more so.”

“I understand.” The bard nodded slowly, watching the woman across from her sit back up straight, her eyes reflecting the grief she tried to keep concealed. “Oh dear, forgive me for forcing this out of you.”

“No force is ever necessary with you, Leliana; I trust you and this was a long time coming. I would have mentioned it to you sooner but, I truly haven’t had time to even think about those I lost.”

“I’m not sure I’m quite ready to open wide the floodgates unless we want a mournful Inquisitor moping around the keep.” Gwen shook her head, embarrassed. “I'm having difficulties as it is making connections with others right now. Besides you of course…  now is not the time to grieve."

The spymaster spoke quietly, "Grief takes many forms. We all lost someone dear to us in that explosion, and I strive to keep my own composure by remembering that they would have wanted us to be strong and carry on." She sighed deeply, her own gaze drifting out the window to the bright blue skies. "I mourn Justinia still and I haven't seen my love in ages. And yet I continue on, for their sacrifices and for the greater good. I will see them both again in good time."

Leliana tilted her head and her face became coy and playful. "You must remember though, a little fun here and there is good for the soul."

Gwen looked back from the window at the expectant expression on her spymaster's face. "Oh, don't look at me like that."

Leliana lowered her head and looked at the other woman, disappointed. "You need to enjoy yourself more often, and if you truly aren't prudish, being in mourning is a poor excuse not to. You know, I could arrange a date with Cullen. I hear he finds you quite attractive."

"Are you mad? That's a terrible idea, Leliana! This place is abuzz with rumors about me as it is. I don't need to fan the flames. Leave my love life out of your secret musings, _please_.”

The Inquisitor made to rise. “Now, if there's nothing else you want to discuss, I’ll just take the information you have on Alistair and be off."

Looking rather defeated, the aspiring matchmaker slouched back into her arm chair before she rounded her desk, sitting on the front in quiet thought.

The inquisitor smiled and sat back down comfortably, tucking her brown hair behind her ears. "It seems fitting that you tell me something more about the _mysterious_ Alistair.”

The bard lifted an eyebrow at her friend and chuckled, then rose from the desk and walked across the Rookery to a stack of crates. “ _Mysterious_ isn’t quite the word I would use to describe the man I knew. He was rather transparent actually, wearing his heart on his sleeve and eager to right the wrongs of the whole world. He was almost annoyingly good at times and I fear the choices we made may have changed him in the end, poor man.”

Leliana moved box after box until she found the one she was looking for. She knelt to the floor, lifted it and brought it back to the table. Cracking the lid, she danced long fingertips through the heavy envelopes until she found one, an inch thick with information. Opening it, she pulled out piece after piece of parchment, then collected the pages into an orderly pile, and drew a fresh envelope from the box. In neat script, she wrote upon the top: Alistair.

Making eye contact with the dark haired woman before her, she finally spoke. “This is _mostly_ everything of note that I have on the man.”

Taking the envelope, she tilted her head in question. “Mostly?”

Leliana sighed. “Personally speaking, there are things about his life that he would not want shared. If he chooses to reveal his secrets, then let him, but I will not. He was my friend and I will not betray that honor.”

Gwen smiled gratefully while opening the envelope. Pulling out the first page, she laid her green eyes on it, an involuntary smile coming to her lips. It was a rough, charcoal drawing of a handsome youth with kind eyes. Gwen held it up curiously, “Is this him?”

“Ten years ago, yes.” Leliana nodded, taking her seat again. “You know, there are only so many things you can learn from reading one of those rigid intelligence reports, Gwen.”

The mage sat back in her seat comfortably, still staring at the drawing. “How do you propose I educate myself further, then?”

The bard laughed easily and rose from her seat, taking the Inquisitor by the arm. “Education by bard, is the best kind of education.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t speak of my travels with Mihna often enough and so, I shall tell you a story over tea... one rife with adventure, happy banter, and dirty socks.”

“Socks?” Green shook her head, confused. Pulling back on her arm. “That doesn't explain where you're taking me.”

“You'll see when we get there.” The redhead glided down the stairs, calling to the woman behind her. “Come on! Have a little fun once in a while!”

 

.

 

_18 Drakonis 9:41 Dragon_

_Skyhold: Day Five_

 

_I’ve been given these roomy quarters and while they are warm and welcoming, there's just so much space here, and so many others who share rooms because of the state of this fortress._

_More work needs to be done... Maker, there's always more work._

_Leliana's diversion was a welcome retreat today. I feel like I’m being pulled a thousand different ways. Sign this, approve these construction reports, greet the refugees from Haven and the surrounding parts._

_Next week, they want me in Northern Ferelden in search of a particular Warden, the famed Alistair._

_I read the information Leliana gave me. It’s incomplete; there’s nothing on him before he became a Warden, and it makes me curious what she is hiding._

_For reasons unknown, I’ve left the drawing of him out on my desk. Even now I look at those kind, sad eyes, and something about them comforts me in this time of tension. I’m eager to meet the real man to see if Leliana’s hand truly captured his soulful eyes._

_People continue to look to me for guidance, and leadership, and- damn it- I truly was not trained for this. I’m proficient in elemental magics, I dabble in the healing arts, I’m a learned person, but I’d be much more suited to a life of information gathering and research. I can only try my hardest to prove that I can be the leader they need and hopefully that will be enough._

_Oh, if only Edmund were here, I know he’d take the mantle of leadership. Instead they got me, with this blasted mark._

_I survived the frozen mountain pass. The people were saved. That wasn’t divine; it was luck and timing._

_I’m no hero._

_Not like Surana. Not like Leliana or Cullen or even Cassandra. Perhaps collecting heroes is my job, it’s something I can do instead of pretending to be something I’m not._

_And now another hero is in our grasp, Alistair, companion to the Hero of Ferelden. Perhaps he should be collected as well._

_Maker guide me._

_…_

The Inquisitor rose from her desk and flopped her journal closed in frustration. Wrapping her arms around her body in false comfort, she walked to the glass doors to her balcony, opened them, and stepped out into the chill wind of night.

“This is my place, I suppose, but _Maker’s breath_ , can I—?” Absentmindedly she began to pull at a chain around her neck and the heavy pendant fell into her fingers as she squeezed the likeness of Andraste in her fist.

“Can I do this alone?” She whispered softly, tears coming to her eyes as she studied the pendant, hoping in vain to learn the answer from the worn silver.

“I can and I will.” Slowly she nodded, clutching at the pendant once more. “No doubts, no regrets.”

* * *

 

 

xXXXx

 

_7 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Crestwood_

 

_Dear Leliana,_

_We've just arrived in Crestwood this morning and camped on the outskirts. It is a most dismal place. Rain and torrential downpours, flooded roads, walking corpses, demons… It's horrid! There's a rift in the middle of the lake too. The MIDDLE of the LAKE. How am I supposed to reach that? By rowboat? Goodness, I hope not…_

_I thought the Hinterlands was miserable with the raging war… No, no, this is far worse._

_Hawke’s map directs us to a location about twenty miles from where we are now.  The forward camp soldiers said he'd been here nearly two weeks ago. We'll leave when we have enough light to walk without being attacked by the undead._

 

_._

 

_8 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Crestwood Village_

_We made our way up to the town and met the Mayor. Along the way we ran into two Grey Wardens who were looking for Alistair. They said they had orders to bring him to the Warden-Commander. They seemed as eager to depart from this place as we were (lucky bastards) and I hope they do leave, so that they won't be a threat to our potential ally._

_There was an elven woman named Jana who offered to help us. Solas and I convinced her to join the Inquisition and she should be with you in a short time. She seems a sweet girl, I know you'll find a place for her at Skyhold._

_The Mayor was acting suspiciously, so says Varric, and he does have a sense for these things, but we're going to help him with the torment, as it is the only sensible thing to do. There's a rift and that's why I have this damnable mark._

_Our journey is so far from over and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed, honestly. Maybe it’s the weather; it still hasn’t let up. One step at a time. We're here in Crestwood to help the people, gain allies and spread the word of the Inquisition. This is meant to be easy, right?_

 

_._

 

_8 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Crestwood_

 

_Today we made excellent travel time to the campsite in the southeast and I even went out of the way and closed another rift a mile or so from our camp, as it seemed proper._

_There is a delightful soldier named Denholm here. We chatted for a bit. Where do you find such kind souls?_

_This lot is quite resourceful: they dug trenches around the camp to divert the rainwater and pilfered a small stove for cooking from an abandoned farmhouse nearby. The hot meal they provided was exactly what we needed to keep us going._

_I've discussed it with the group and they agree that we should push on; a dry, warm cave sounds great right about now. We should make it to Hawke and Alistair tonight, just past sunset._

_Will this rain ever stop?_

_I'm sending my letters with the courier here and hope you'll receive them shortly. I hope you're well._

_Gwen_

 

.

 

"Stay yourselves!" A crisp voice called out in the night, his bow drawn and trained on the moonlight glistening on Cassandra's armor.

"Hawke? Is that you?" Varric answered from the black. "We're soaking wet and freezing our asses off. We don't need to be riddled with arrows as well, so lower the bow, and let us camp."

"Took you long enough." He called out, lowering his bow at the familiar voice.

"I happen to think we made excellent time." Gwen spoke defiantly, emerging from the night into his vision. He was dry and standing just inside the mouth of the cave.

"Come along; we’ve been waiting for ages." Hawke ignored her comment and turned, gesturing for the quartet to follow him.

There was a torch casting a moving shadow in the cave and a light around a wooden door, deeper in as Hawke had told them. Blood stains decorated the door and the skeletal head of the Blind Men insignia was painted there: the entrance was slightly ominous. The firelight though, was warm and inviting to the group. Hawke opened the door for Gwen as the others lingered in the entryway, shaking the excess water from their outerwear.  

The Inquisitor quietly walked inside, tiptoeing almost, not wanting to disturb the waiting Warden. She looked around but he was not to be seen. In the front area, there were torches on the walls, along with some rusted weapons, and barrels of supplies. The fire was burning there with two bedrolls placed near it, but the Inquisitor pressed on into the darker recess of the cave. She spun slowly in place to observe the cave fully: there were several packs with provisions, and a table with maps and books strewn upon its surface. Then there was a sharp noise: a blade drawn behind her. Gwen spun around quickly, eyeing its point at her chest.

"Ah, Hello.” The inquisitor had her arms raised in as innocent a gesture she was able to make.

"Andraste's flaming ass, man! She's with us.” Hawke stumbled into view, griping at his companion. “First my arrow, now your sword, couldn't ask for a warmer welcome." Hawke laughed and turned toward the Warden.

Agitated, the Grey Warden growled at Hawke. “You’re supposed to announce yourself when you return.”

“She’s a quick one. Got past me before I could call out, man.” Hawke chuckled, placing a slap on the Warden’s back. “Relax.”

Gwen blushed, the color staining her pale, wet cheeks. “I suppose introductions are to be made.”

“Indeed!” The tall rogue aggrandized his speech and cut off her words.

“This," Hawke made an exaggerated gesture with his hand, "is the _almighty_ Inquisitor."

"I’m Alistair.” Turning his attention again to Gwen, he sheathed his sword.

Gwen smiled and responded, shivering slightly. "Good to meet you, finally. Do you mind if we warm ourselves by the fire?"

"Of course, and my apologies for greeting you at sword point." He cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured the group to the fire pit, where low flames gathered on a recently placed log.

The four tired travelers unrolled their sleep packs to cover the ground of the cave where they sat. Hawke and Alistair moved their own packs to make room for four guests. The drenched group began to rid themselves of their damp outer garments and placed them on the rocks lining the perimeter of the room to dry.

As she shrugged out of her long leather jacket, Gwen watched the Warden closely: he carried himself confidently when he walked, and moved with the rigidity of a soldier as he rolled his bedroll to make room for the newcomers. He then laid it down and lounged on it comfortably. His tawny hair looked nearly red in the firelight, wrinkles crept onto the outer corners of his eyes, and he had a few light scars peppering his tanned skin. If the drawing she had memorized had gotten one thing right, it was his eyes.  She registered their honey-brown color for the first time and smiled at the echo of hidden kindness, behind his apparent rigid exterior. To top it off, Alistair had indeed grown into a handsome man.

The rain had soaked clear through Gwen's jacket and dampened her ‘official Inquisitor under armor' and so she began the tedious task of unclasping each hook-and-eye and placed it beside her leather jacket to dry. Underneath she wore a simple cream linen top with capped sleeves and a swan-necked collar; it was neatly tucked into her leather leggings. Her braid was soaked and so she walked to the entrance way to unpick it, and wring out her thick dark locks, shaking her head as she returned to the fireside. Feeling slightly out of sorts with wet hair and donning her undershirt in the company of strangers, she blushed as she took her seat beside the fire.

There was silence in the cave besides the soft noise of rain falling and the shuffling of her companions to ready themselves for the night. Gwen’s eye roamed around the room and caught Alistair’s eyes for a moment. Pausing in his gaze, she lifted the corner of her mouth in a strange smile. He gave an uneasy cough and swiftly averted his eyes. In response, she awkwardly called out a question to which she already knew the answer, "So-- You're the Alistair who fought the Archdemon with the Hero of Ferelden?"

He grimaced slightly, looking to Hawke and back, "I think I need to change my name. Yes, that was me. War, betrayal, darkspawn: All lots of fun and made for excellent stories, I'm sure." With a curt response, he said flatly "Nobody cares about that anymore. I answered to Warden-Commander Clarel, same as everybody else."

Gwen was taken aback by the brusqueness of his response because, she did care, contrary to what he thought. Her words weren’t meant to be any kind of an insult and she felt like he had taken it as such. She felt a fool: immature and unprepared. Leliana's most recent tales had colored her opinion of the Warden Alistair and she came into the conversation thinking that he would be the jovial youth who traveled with her spymaster ten years prior. But she was a stranger to him and of course, ten years’ time can change anyone.

She was practically a child herself ten years ago. At the age of fourteen she was tripping down the halls of the Ostwick Circle as she grew into her long legs and more concerned with teen boys, than studies. When the Blight came, she cried along with those who lost family and friends, and was kept awake many a night worrying that the darkspawn would reach their Circle. They were childish musings of course, and she had transitioned greatly in those years. How could she blame him for doing the same?

Gwen set her former thoughts about the Grey Warden aside and donned her professional face: the same one she used when she taught the youth of the circle and coincidentally, the one she used while Inquisitor-ing.  

Turning the conversation to direr events, she responded crisply. "Aptly put Alistair. Shall we move the conversation straight to business then?"

Alistair raised his eyebrows as the Inquisitor took control of the discussion. All other eyes were drawn to her as she stood, holding a worn leather book and a small leather pouch with a feather quill sticking out of the top.

Flipping the journal open half way, she readied her inkwell on one of the large boulders within her reach and spoke forthright, "Hawke, Alistair: Tell me your stories, and as much as you can recall about Corypheus." As a woman of precision, she wanted every detail and though tired, she took a deep breath and readied herself. It was going to be a long night.

 

.

 

Much to the Inquisitor's irritation, after only a short time Varric derailed the business talk, to tell one of his outlandish stories about the Kirkwall adventures. With a detectably inebriated and guffawing Hawke eagerly encouraging him into another tale, nearly an hour passed before Alistair began to speak of his experiences again. Before he delved too far though, the group decided to take a short break.

The rain had finally ceased, so Gwen and Cassandra took the opportunity go out of the cave for a bit of fresh air and to relieve themselves.

From behind the thick brush, Gwen heard Cassandra speak quietly, "What do you think of the Warden?"

"He's certainly nothing like Blackwall."

She huffed. "That doesn't answer my question at all."

Gwen sighed, stood up, and adjusted her clothes. Turning back toward the cave she waited for Cassandra and answered her, "In truth, I'm not sure what to make of him. He seems a decent man, dedicated to the Wardens, but there's a deep sadness I can see in his eyes. This Calling is quite troubling for him. I only wish we had more knowledge about it."

"I meant, professionally, what do you think of him?"

"Oh. If his stories are true, he’s battle worn and follows orders… mostly. He’s forthcoming with the information on Corypheus, thought I suspect there will be more if only Varric could keep his mouth shut long enough for the man to finish a thought."

The women shared a harrumph and Gwen continued. "He's given us some valuable information on the Wardens too. I think he'll make a useful ally against our foes."

"As do I. And I agree with you… on your other observations as well."

Gwen smiled at her warrior and they walked back to the cave in amiable silence.

Varric and Hawke were outside on watch together, laughing heartily as the latter finished a rather lewd punchline centering on someone named Rivaini. Cassandra rolled her eyes and pushed back into the cave. Gwen paused with the two rogues, making small talk for a few minutes.

"Better get back in there to the Warden, Trev. I hear there's a lot more ground to cover." Varric grinned at her.

She turned and walked backwards a few steps, irritation creeping up her throat, threatening to scold the tispy dwarf. "I'm sorry to bore you with inane details about our arch nemesis, but someone's got to search through everything we have and find something to exploit."

"Better you than me! I hate paperwork… unless it’s prose." He chuckled at her.

"I live for this kind of research. It's what the circle trained me for... Well, that and casting fireballs at our enemies. Not all of us can be famous storytellers and master archers with one-of-a-kind crossbows. The world needs the bookworms too." Gwen gave a wave of dismissal and walked back into the cave.

Pausing a few steps away, she turned on her heel and narrowed her eyes at the dwarf. "Though, might I make a suggestion, Varric?"

"By all means, your Inquisitorialness!"

With a near-stern voice, Gwen made her request. "In order to do _my_ job, I need you to keep your mouth quiet until the Warden is finished giving me everything I need. Goodness knows your cohort here don't be supplying anymore information in his condition.”

Blue eyes narrowed at her and Hawke took a fragile step forward, but was caught in the stomach by the dwarf’s large palm.

Gwen blinked rapidly, ignoring the former Champion’s move. “After which, feel free to resume your storytelling: you know how much I enjoy good fiction."

Though her words were kindly, Varric knew better than to cross her or joke with her when she made any suggestion in her Inquisitor voice. "Of course." He bowed slightly and the woman nodded, turning back down the path into the cave.

When she was out of earshot, Hawke looked at Varric, stunned at Gwen's outburst. "Well, shit. Did we just get told by the Inquisitor?”

“That we did, my friend.”

“Huh. People usually treat me with as little more respect, considering--”

"Just shut up." Varric said lowly, through a smirk.

"Are you two coming?" The Inquisitor called out from the interior of the cave.

"We’ll only get in your way, Trev, and plus we've got some catching up to do." Testing the limits of his leader, the dwarf called out with a grin, "Take notes!"

 


	2. Serious Talks and Undead Guests

xXXXx

 

Late into the evening, Gwen and Alistair held each other in rapt attention, as they discussed all manner of things: The Wardens, the Inquisition, and their mutual enemy, the darkspawn magister Corypheus. The Inquisitor took detailed notes as the man told his story, hoping to indeed talk to her Spymaster about seeking information on the Calling. She also made notes to speak with Grand Enchanter Fiona regarding her _former_ status as a Grey Warden.

To say the news was troubling, was an understatement: The Grey Wardens were desperate, making one last strike at the darkspawn and any remaining Old Gods before their Order became only a memory, effectively ensuring that there would be no more Blights, ever. Their exact methods were still a mystery, but the Grey Warden mages had begun to experiment with blood magic and Alistair spoke out against it which lent him the title of traitor among his brethren.

Every few minutes Gwen would stare back at him with expectant eyes, willing him silently to continue his lecture. When he paused, or took a break, she would then share some of her own relevant knowledge about what happened at the Conclave, their bizarre encounter at Redcliffe, and the attack on Haven. At those times, his eyes never left hers for long; he seemed to be absorbing every word she said.

Gwen had learned that Hawke had technically killed Corypheus years ago. He visited the Warden prison tower in the Vimmark Mountains to end recurring attacks in which his assailants wanted his blood, which held the key to releasing the Magister.

Alistair hypothesized that the Elder One had an ability akin to an Archdemon where he would not actually die when killed. The notion was confusing to Gwen as the Warden’s explanations had holes. When she asked questions he didn’t want to answer, the man would pause and furrow his brow. After a few of such occurrences, Gwen would move on quickly, respecting his privacy. It was clear that he intended to keep as many Grey Warden secrets as he could, despite their exile of him. The man was loyal, possibly to a fault.

 

.

 

Sometime later, as they were winding down, they quieted their voices, respecting those of their comrades who’d already prepared for sleep or the night watch.

Gwen sat upon an overturned barrel and Alistair stood across from her, leaning over the table between them, with a map rolled out in front of him. He turned his attention to her, staring at her scrawling away in a little leather book.

With a gruff, tired voice, the man spoke as he pointed to the map. "You see, here's where we'll meet in the Western Approach: a Tevinter Ritual Tower."

"Yes, I see..." She trailed off as she sketched the map and meeting place.

"May I ask, what kinds of… things are you jotting down in that book?" Alistair lifted himself and attempted to peek over her scribbling hand, but she pulled the book closer to her chest. "I've been wondering about it since you pulled it out of your pack hours ago. You've scarcely put it down, even in our lulls."

"They're just notes of our conversation and observations. I tend to forget the details unless I keep a log of them. I don't know what I would do without my codex."

"Ah, I see. That's quite clever. You're very organized." He then began to awkwardly tidy up some of his own papers strewn upon the desk.

She smiled over her codex, still making notations. "I try to keep complete records for the Inquisition too. Though presently, I'm working on something that will hopefully lay things out in a more orderly presentation."

She hesitated a moment, giving him a curious look. "If you'll indulge me?"

The man met her sage-green eyes hesitantly and gave a consenting nod.

Gwen wasted little time moving around the table. He stood taller at her approach and as she sidled up to him, she leaned in, holding open her journal and awaiting his attention.

The Warden cleared his throat and followed her finger as she pointed to her drawing.

"I've made a web of sorts that centers on Corypheus and connects him to events, people, and places. See, here where I’ve added the Grey Wardens… and you, and Hawke. If I can gather more information, my people can embellish it, perhaps even scrawl it out onto a larger piece of parchment. I hope it will be a useful tool. Perhaps we’ll make connections that we wouldn’t have made without a visualization of the whole picture and at the very least, it keeps me organized."

Alistair turned his head and caught her eyes mere inches away from his own. He cleared his throat. "Extraordinary."

Gwen felt a swell of pride at his concise comment, the comment of Alistair, hero of the Fifth Blight, and a rush of heat reach her face as she looked away and back down to the journal. "I don’t know about _extraordinary._ It’s just the way I see things."

"Don't deflect my praise. I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't mean it." His brow furrowed, his words crisp.

In a modest whisper, she responded. "Thank you.”

Gazing around the room, Gwen realized that they were the only ones awake in the cavern. “We should probably retire soon."

"Yes. I’ll need as much rest as I can tonight if I’m to be on my way to the Western Approach in a day’s time. I'd appreciate the Inquisition's help on this." His eyes focused again on her, awaiting a solid response.

She tightened a bit and said pragmatically, "We'll help you after the business in Crestwood is finished and once I've had a chance to talk with the rest of my people at our headquarters."

" _Of course._ " Alistair nodded and frowned slightly, catching her sudden, concerned expression. “Sorry. We’ve just been here for two damn weeks. The waiting… it makes me irksome.”

“I understand more than you know, but don’t let it. The Inquisition is here to help.” She smiled up to him, hoping to illicit a response, but his face stayed stoic.

Without another word, he turned to retrieve his bedroll and she hers, when simultaneously they realized that there was little space left to spread their two beds in the small cave. They readied their bedrolls and each lay down, settling as much as they could into the hard ground of the cave.

Gwen peered over to Cassandra who was lying on her back with the book 'Swords and Shields' splayed across her chest; she was fast asleep. Solas was next to Cassandra on his side facing away. Gwen knew he wasn't asleep yet as she could see the tense muscles of his back move while he tried to get comfortable. He was most likely listening to every word of their conversation and would ask her about key pieces when they were alone. Hawke and Varric were outside and their muffled laughs and conversation could be heard in the cave. They had first and second watch and she was sure they'd spend it together, catching up.

She finally laid down after stowing her pack under her pillow. Gwen dared to face Alistair as they lay side by side, less than three feet apart. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep yet either. She studied his face again. He hadn't lost that slight frown from their last words and it bothered her.

Just as she set her mind to calm itself, Alistair opened his brown eyes and met hers instantly. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her. They kept the gaze for longer than Gwen felt comfortable with until finally she broke it by turning on her back, closing her own eyes and willing herself to sleep.

 

.

 

"Your turn." Gwen was awakened suddenly by the Seeker gently shaking her shoulder. She rose and quickly dressed in her dry armor, before grabbing her pack and following Cassandra to the mouth of the cave. It was sometime after midnight, by the orientation of the half-moon and the chill in the air. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her body.  

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she looked around to the left of the entrance to see there were two squat logs sitting on end next to one another. On the opposite side, there was a large wooden crate of discarded items: weapons and such, most likely from the smugglers that once occupied the cave. She laid the contents of her pack on one of the stumps.

"How long have I been asleep?" She barely managed the words through a yawn.

"Not too long. Varric and Hawke took their watches together and Solas and I have each had ours. You and Alistair will take the remaining hours until daylight. Wake him if you need a rest."

Gwen rubbed her hands over her face. "Any activity?"

"None on my watch. Varric and Hawke said that they could see some wolves roaming the hills in that direction." She pointed southward. "But they never came close enough to catch their scent."

"Not the tainted wolves, I hope." She scrunched her face in disgust. “Disgusting creatures.”

"Indeed.” Cassandra covered a yawn with a gloved hand.

Gwen fumbled with her pack, producing a small beeswax candle. “Since there is so little activity, and I need to write some reports, I’m going to light this.” She lifted a questioning brow to the Seeker.

Cassandra’s eyes admonished her. “As long as you keep an eye on your horizon.”

The mage nodded in understanding and produced a small flame from her hand, touching it to the blackened wick until the flame passed and held, flickering wildly in the wind.

“I'm going to get some rest. Call out if you see anything."

Gwen nodded, warming her hand over the flame before reaching in her pack for her writing supplies.

As the Inquisitor, Gwen never had to take the night watch at Skyhold and her companions usually gave her the easiest shift in their travels, but she knew of the reputation of having to endure the overnight watch.

Fortunately, she never felt the dread of sitting in the near dark, watching the landscape for trouble. Perhaps it was her time at the circle that afforded her the calm of sitting in the dark: awake and content. After lights out, it was common for her to lay in her bed, listening to the sounds of the tower or recite her lessons in her mind.

In the present life, she found it comforting to be alone and often used the time to organize herself and write letters to friends or reports to her advisors by thin candlelight. Her peripheral vision was sharp and any movement would pull her out of her absorption and into the present moment.

That night she determined she would write a personal letter to Leliana again and send each of her advisors the news of Crestwood. Gwen collected her items from the stump and sat organizing the papers into piles for each one.

She wrote to Josephine about making trade routes more accessible and more desirable to travel as well as news of the Mayor and how he seemed untrustworthy. Perhaps she could root out some information on the man through her ties with nobles in the area.

Gwen's letter to Cullen contained detailed maps of the area where they encountered resistance, mainly undead and demons, along with descriptions of attacks and weaknesses she found. He would, as he always had done, assess the danger and in the coming weeks, send the appropriate number of soldiers to aid them in keeping the locals from danger.

To Leliana, she would send maps too, but these were marked with secret caves or blinds that she'd found in the area. The Spymaster's agents could use these locations to sneak effectively through Crestwood. Gwen sent her all the information on new recruits as well. Leliana had a knack for placing people where they could do the best. If Gwen found any juicy secrets she would also relay them, in code, to her master-spy.

They all would receive copies of the notes she took while talking with Alistair and Hawke. Josephine would have a someone transcribe them for the Inquisition's records.

With work tidied up, she started to pen her friend a casual letter to accompany the large envelope of Inquisition papers.

 

…

 

_9 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Crestwood_

_Lel,_

_We made it to the smuggler's cave._

_Everything has been decent here. I've nearly forgotten about the rain while inside the dry, warm cave. Alas, now I'm on watch and the wind blows the rain into me every now and again, so please excuse the smudges._

_Hope you enjoy the bundle that's coming along with this. I think we’ll be making great strides toward determining the enemies plans soon enough. Corypheus’ interest in the Wardens is suspicious, as is their newfound interest in using blood magic. But that’s business, and this is a personal letter. Believe me, you’ll have enough to read when you get the reports._

_I must say, what an interesting man Alistair is. He's given us loads of information that he personally researched. We work very well together._

_I'm surprised by him and expected someone different, probably the consequence of your lavish tales of adventure and folly. I almost wonder if I even should have asked you for such details regarding the man. I fear they color my opinion of him and I'll need to amend my premature impressions._

_You warned me that he would have undoubtedly changed and I see that you were right. He seems bitter at times and more solemn than I expected him to be. Of course, I've only known him for half a day, maybe less, so I can't be sure of anything except my first perception._

_Regarding my notes again, you'll find a copy of an information map in this pack. With the Warden's help, we've pieced together everything we know about Corypheus between us. I'm sure you have people who can elabor-_

 

_…_

 

"Good Morning." A groggy voice interrupted her focus. The voice belonged to the man she was currently writing about in her letter to Leliana.

She spoke, startled. "Oh! Good… morning to you too.

He sighed and sat down next to her. She quickly covered her letter with a blank sheet of parchment lest he see his name scrawled across the paper. A swift whirlwind blew into the cave entrance, blowing out the candle and leaving the pair in a cloak of darkness.

"Sorry about the candle.”

“It was bound to happen with all this wind.” Gwen released her breath and relaxed. “Why aren't you asleep? I have the watch."

“I haven't slept a full night since I started hearing the Calling, and when I do sleep my dreams are… terrible.”

"I'm so sorry about your… affliction."

Though still visibly tired, he gave her a small smile and said, "Don't worry yourself over it. Hopefully once this business with the Wardens is over, I'll be back to being plain old Alistair."

"Forgive me, but you'll never just be 'plain old Alistair'. You're still a hero from the Fifth Blight, you know." Gwen looked at him in earnest, as he grimaced at the hero part.

Embarrassed, she stared out across the darkened hills of Crestwood. The rain was still falling, but there was a faint light of dawn in the air. Gwen took a deep breath and then looked back at the Warden.

"During the Blight, I can remember times in my Circle when we were so sure that the darkspawn horde would make it north to Ostwick, I was just a young girl then and the stories terrified me. Because of your dedication to the cause, we didn't have to find out firsthand what that attack would look like."

Gwen looked down at her hands as she clutched them together tightly. "Earlier when I asked if you were that Alistair, I meant no insult. I should have held my tongue, I suppose. It's just that being in the presence of one of those responsible for saving Ferelden--all Thedas really--well, it's an honor. You and the band you traveled with are heroes to me as much as the Hero of Ferelden herself."

Half way through her rambling, his eyebrows lifted and he simply stared at her. He waited for her to finish, then spoke gently, "Thank you for that. I sometimes forget how many people were affected by the Blight."

"You're welcome." She replied softly.

Alistair turned his body out to the hills, settled his back against the outer cave wall, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He lifted his left leg at the knee and brought it across his other leg, then sighed shakily.

"Are you alright?" Gwen asked, timidly.

"I'm fine. My mind is just elsewhere. I needn't bother you with my personal problems."

"Alistair, I know we just met, but we're allies now, so if there is something I can do to help you to ease your mind, don't hesitate to ask."

"I suppose we are allies now." He looked over at her with a surprised smile on his face. He chuckled lowly, "Forgive me, I've been with the Grey Wardens so long that I'm not particularly easy to get along with."

“No, not anymore I suppose.” She laughed, her mind wandered to thoughts of Leliana’s tales.

"Hmm--what?" He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Not _anymore_?

"Oh. Forgive me. I misspoke." She averted her eyes to hide her self-chiding.

"You know something more of me?’ Alistair lost his scowl and a small smile started to grow in its place. ‘Tell me."

Gwen's face turned ten different shades of red, thankfully the dark shielded most of her humiliation from Alistair's view. "Maker, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“No, please go on.” Alistair intoned, a hint of teasing in the words.

Gwen scoffed defensively as her eyes darted back to his. “You can’t be surprised, really. What kind of a leader would I be to my people if I walked into a dark cave to meet a stranger without learning everything I possibly could about him first?”

Alistair cleared his throat. “You know everything?”

“Well, maybe not everything, but your dossier was informative… and other things I learned from Leliana. She told me stories about your travels before I left for the Crestwood expedition. She painted you as such a jovial youth… I see now that you have changed. Matured.”

"Leliana? The Orlesian bard? The lay sister of the Chantry?" His voice lifted in confusion. "She's hitched her wagon to your horse as well then?"

Gwen raised her voice, offended for Leliana's sake. "Try Leliana, my Spymaster and the Left Hand of the Divine, for Maker's sake."

He sat up and a puzzled look overtook his features, his hardened composure slipped for a moment. "Wait, wait. Leliana is Sister Nightingale? I've never would have thought… Wow."

"She's quite good at it."

"I've no doubt. Good to know she's still telling her tales too." He said the words with a hint of sadness.

Feeling a bit bolder at the revelation of her secret, she continued, "The stories, they were quite good you know. I wondered though: were they all true?"

The man laughed lightly. "That depends on which ones she told you."

"I don’t know if I feel courageous enough to repeat anything.” Gwen stifled a laugh. “Some weren’t very flattering."

Alistair sighed loudly in jest. “Ah, then yes, they were absolutely true.”

Gwen chuckled softly. “I expect that with all that dashing around Ferelden, and being _heroes_ , you’d drum up all sorts of hilarious stories.”

"Heroes." Alistair let out a deep breath, revealing more of himself to her. "You’d never know this, but at the time we were terrified. A group of kids with no experience, who built an army, and defeated the Archdemon. Who would have ever thought that could happen? That we would actually do it and win."

"I'm only 24 years myself, and I seem to be in a similar predicament."

“Only 24?” He turned to her, eyeing her up and down as well as he could in the low light. “I thought… well, you seem to have the wisdom of an older woman."

"Perhaps I knew I had to rise to the challenge, as you knew you had to. You did quite well, I might add."

He waved a hand in dismissal at her. "I was never one for leadership. I followed Surana around like a lost puppy for the first few months. It was only later when we had to make the truly difficult decisions, that I realized how much I'd grown up in such a short time."

The Inquisitor beamed at him, repeating the words he spoke earlier to her. "Don't deflect my praise. I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't mean it."

He lifted his head up and looked over at her, studying her expression. With a nod of his head and the turn of a grin he said, "Touché."

For the next few minutes, they sat with eyes locked in silence until Gwen broke away to check the perimeter with keen eyes. Alistair followed her lead, scanning the horizon as well.

Once satisfied by the state of the hills beyond, the Inquisitor looked over to the Warden next to her. Since the candle hand blown out by the wind, her eyes had adjusted well to the dark and she saw that his face was illuminated by the dim moonlight, his profile austere. Reflected in his eyes, she caught a glimpse of pain.

“I have to ask again, because you appear to be in pain-- _Are you sure you’re alright_?” She whispered to him.

He turned as she spoke, smiling at her tenderness. Hesitantly, he began to open up to her. “I’ve come to hate silence and stillness. I can manage to think and talk when I have to and it helps to fill my mind with _things,_ but in the serenity of the night, it creeps back in.”

Gwen reached out and placed her hand atop his, which rested on his leg. Speaking in a low voice, she vowed. "I promise you. We will find a way to break you free from it."

“You don’t understand.” He sneered slightly and she pulled her hand away. "It's _impossible_."

"I love impossible causes.” Gwen's eyes filled with genuine pride.

"How can you be so optimistic?" His eyes narrowed at her and his brow did the same furrow that it had done while she was staring at him in their bedrolls. Gwen then realized something about his scowl: he wasn't angry with her, he was studying her.

"I learned a long time ago that a life brimming with ill thoughts only stood to make that life worse. I had to change, or despair.” She looked out to the landscape, her thoughts disappearing into the past.

Minutes went by in silence before the Warden broke it. "So, may I ask what you're writing?"

Drawing her focus to the conversation again, Gwen lifted the parchment. “This? It's just… umm, a personal letter. I already finished my reports to the Inquisition. I had some time left over so I thought I'd send a letter to someone dear to me."

He started to pry. "Who's the lucky man, then?"

"Oh, well, she's a woman, but--"

He snorted. "Well, that figures."

Gwen squinted for a second, then her eyes widened in understanding. She made a few awkward quick movements with her hands while trying to verbalize her explanation. "No, no. It's not romantic! I mean, I like men-- I mean, not multiple men-- I mean, not in the plural sense-- Maker's breath."

Alistair seemed somewhat amused by the show. "I didn't mean to pry. Just making conversation, I promise."

After a moment of painful silence, a smile spread across his face. "Your advisors would be happy you're making such strides with the Grey Warden liaison."

Gwen exhaled calmly, then glanced at him with an amused and curious eye. “Was that a joke?”

He clutched his chest in mock pain. “Oo, ouch, I really must be out of practice because well, I _thought_ it was. Hmm, I’ll stick to more typical first conversation topics then.” He jibed, laboring to keep a serious face. “How is the weather in the Frostbacks this time of year?”

She laughed lightly, returning her attention to the parchment in her lap. “We can continue our previous conversation. You only caught me off guard, is all. I’m not used to sitting and idly chatting with… well, anyone but Leliana.” As she spoke she returned the piece of parchment to her pack and popped the cork back into her inkwell. The candle wax had cooled enough that she could stow that away too.

The Grey Warden sat in silence watching her movements.

She turned to him, finally offering an answer to his question. "The letter was to Leliana. We have become friends in these months since I fell out of that rift at the Conclave."

Alistair shuffled his feet where he sat, his leather boots scraping the dirt. "So, it's all true then? The explosion… your mark?”

When he replied, he turned to her, but she did not look back at him. Her eyes were focused on the fog that had creeped up from the lake nearby. She perched herself on the stump, intently gazing at the horizon.

He continued, looking down to his hands which were tapping on his thigh. “I understand if it's too personal to speak of…”

"Alistair…" Her voice faltering as his name came out.

He made an annoyed grunt. "You're not even looking at me. Are you paying attention--"

"Alistair!" She hissed.

"What?!" He shot back, staring at her.

Gwen pointed to the landscape, where several gaunt figures emerged from the thick wall in a slow shuffle. "We're about to be attacked!"

"Oh. Shit." He stood and drew his sword from his belt.

"It looks like six undead, shambling towards us, about ten yards away. They must have heard us from the road, or saw my damned candle." She stood, readying her magic, and with a dejected sigh she spoke, "I wasn't paying attention."

Alistair looked at her briefly with surprise from the surge of magical energy that she emitted. He then knelt to grab a rugged shield from the box of weapons on the other side of the cave.

"We should call the others. I don't have my staff out here--"

"You have your hands, right?" He stood, a feral grin forming on his face.

Gwen opened her mouth to respond.

Alistair cut her off, whispering hoarsely. "There's no time to get reinforcements; if we call out they'll hasten and if we retreat into the cave they'll be on us before we come back out."

"You have a lot of experience fighting these things?"

He puffed out a cold laugh, gripping his sword tighter. "You could say that. Redcliffe, ten years ago: The castle and town were overrun with them. Use fire if you can."

"Okay, we can do this." Gwen instinctively assured herself aloud, though her mind was left to think about the Warden’s raw reaction to the impending fight, his excitement stirred her insides.

"Ready?" The Warden waited for her jittery nod, then tucked her behind himself, and lurched forward into the falling rain and at the group of walking corpses.


	3. Angry Words

xXXXx

 

_9 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Crestwood, Smuggler's cave_

 

_Oh Leliana,_

_Something happened last night, well, early this morning: Alistair and I, we battled undead together._

_Maker's breath, I am now harboring a fascination for the man._

_Your stories only intrigued me. And the information in the dossier, especially that damn drawing, made me naturally curious..._

_Now, I'm faced with this man and he's oddly charming._

_This just sounds ridiculous, right? I’ve only known the man for a day!_

_I feel a bit ashamed, honestly. Is it the right time for this sort of thing? I should focus on our task, instead I'm thinking about Alistair, wondering who he is and wanting to find out._

_Last night, prior to fighting, we had a nice conversation and I began to see hints of your Alistair. I feel as if he's reluctant to allow his true thoughts into the open and perhaps the impromptu conversation allowed him to drop his guard. We became distracted from our duty and as some walking corpses came upon us, we were forced to fight._

_I must say, that man is battle seasoned and his prowess on the field is unmatched. We had some trouble starting off with placement, but after a few moments, we found a pleasant dance. I had no staff and so he rotated around me, protecting me, all the while allowing my spells the chance to fly beside him._

_He... he trusted me, a mage. Do you remember how long it took Cassandra to get used to fighting beside me? He knew that those creatures had a weakness to fire and my spells lit them up like kindling._

_You should have seen him, pivoting around, drawing me to him, pushing me behind him safely... He may not be a tactician, like Cullen, but he's got control and command of battle, no doubt about it. I’m curious to see what he could do with a larger group..._

_There was a lull, a single moment, after the last one dropped where he turned to me, with the rain falling steadily on us both. We were both breathing heavily, we were mere inches apart. I looked at those honey-brown eyes and those full lips and I was completely, utterly, enraptured._

_Has it been so long since I've stared into a pair of sincere, passionate eyes? Maker's breath, I feel like an adolescent girl again, peering shamelessly at the handsome Templars in the sparring ring._

_I was fully distracted by him and the rain was beating on the ground, damaging my hearing. We stood there, chests heaving wildly, when an arrow came from behind him, piercing his shoulder, through the space between his chest plate and collar, right above his heart._

_As you can well imagine, this broke our reverie._

_As he fell to his knee, he made an opening for my casting, and I threw the hottest flame spell I could conjure at the lone undead archer that was encroaching our position. The thing burst into flames and collapsed into a fiery heap. I knelt down to him and helped him throw his other arm over my shoulders as we moved quickly from the path as not to attract more walkers._

_As we neared the entrance, Cassandra and Solas emerged from the cave to berate me for not alerting them to the attack._

_Before the injury, I noticed his fight style was akin to a Templar’s. Though Alistair was more fluid in his movements, unencumbered by that heavy armor and tabard. I'd swear he's had the training, though curiously, your dossier didn't mention his past as a Templar._

_Our fight keeps replaying over and over in my head. The man loves battle; there was raw passion there and I felt… enlivened by it._

_Maker, what am I getting myself into?_

_Admittedly, this is a welcome, if ill-timed distraction from the pressures of a leader’s life._

_Looking forward to your reply and desperately seeking your advice._

_G_

 

_…_

 

Gwen finished the letter, sealed it and set it on a pile for the courier. She sat at the desk inside the cave, finishing up her correspondences after a small breakfast.

Alistair was sleeping near the fire in remarkable peace. Unencumbered by his scale mail and chest armor, and his shoulder already well on its way to normal, thanks to Solas' incredible healing abilities. Solas sat next to his ward, cross-legged on the ground with a book in his lap. Gwen smiled at the thought of him doing the same for her, not but three months ago when the mark threatened to kill her in her sleep. From the other side of the cave, Hawke sat on a large boulder with a pliers in hand, repairing the Warden’s scale mail as best he could.

There was a simple flow to the morning and everyone seemed willing to help one another regardless of the job. Another smile crossed her lips; this was a good group of people to travel with.

Placing all of the letters and documents into a waterproof canvas bag, she placed it under the table and strolled out to the cave mouth for a bit of fresh air. She spied the Seeker several paces away, cleaning up the mess of the fight.

"Cassandra." Gwen ran out in the rain to the warrior, pulling the hood of her gray woolen cloak over her head as they met. She was searching the corpses for anything of value before throwing them onto a nearby pile to burn.

"What is it, Inquisitor?"

"I want your advice."

"Of course, you need only ask." The Seeker's mouth curled into a small smile at the Inquisitor's words. She tossed an ash covered arm and shoulder bone onto the growing pile.

They walked a short distance away from the corpses and Gwen spoke again. "I want to recruit Alistair and Hawke into the Inquisition."

"Hawke is reckless, and we have already have a Grey Warden ally in Blackwall."

"First, Blackwall isn't here. When I asked him to join us in Crestwood to meet Alistair, he said that he had some other business to attend to in the Hinterlands. Second, I think they’ll both be useful allies but specifically, Alistair has experience that I deem invaluable to the Inquisition’s success here in Crestwood."

"Such as?"

Gwen let out a puff of air, "You should have seen him fighting last night. No offense to your style or skill, but he revels in the battle like no one I’ve ever seen. The man has finesse, mobility, and he’s a good protector. He also mentioned being in Redcliffe during the Blight and said it was overrun by similar walking corpses. Apparently, they fought them off with great success. He's the only reason our fight this morning went so… well."

She kicked at a stray skull in disgust, sending it flying to the pile. "It was my fault he got an arrow through the chest. I wasn't watching his back."

"It wasn't your fault. You were two against many." Cassandra placated her.

"I suppose. Perhaps that's why I'm so eager to have him travel with us in this dreadful place. The more people we have, the easier it will be for us to snuff out the enemies."

The Seeker sighed, unconvinced and offering her counsel, she spoke, "I can see your point about recruiting him, though, I'm not sure _he_ will. They intended to leave for the Western Approach before sundown. He seemed determined to make it there as soon as possible.”

“Yes, he did seem eager.” Gwen mumbled to herself and stood, puzzling for a moment. “Do you think it wise for them to travel alone, then wait for us to meet them there in a few weeks?”

“I suppose we could direct them to one of our camps in the area, perhaps they could entertain themselves--”

“For weeks?” The Inquisitor shook her head, forming a plan as she continued. “We have little more than a toehold in the Approach right now. They’d be waiting for us, wasting their time, their skills... and he admitted to me last night that he hates waiting. Do you think they’d hear reason if I asked them?”

“You must be tactful about it, but yes, I think they would listen to you. However, they may not accept your offer.”

"I think I can convince Alistair," Gwen said, smiling slowly, " _if_ I plan to offer him our full and undivided attention when we reach the Western Approach."

"Without considering your advisors' opinions on the matter?"

Gwen pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "I don't have the time to wait for their response. I just want to know that I have _your_ support and I will consider that my council."

"Of course you have my support, as always."

Gwen clasped her hand around the Seeker's shoulder as they walked back to the bones. The two threw the rest of the bodies onto the larger pile. With a flick of her wrist, Gwen set the pyre aflame, again using the hottest fireball she could expel. The flames torched the bones and within minutes there was nothing but ash left.

"We should move. That could draw attention."

Cassandra nodded.

As they walked back to the entrance, Alistair emerged, yawning and stretching, and scanned the horizon. His expression softened when he locked eyes on Gwen and for that, she was grateful. She’d need that kind of camaraderie if she was to convince him to join her. Gwen understood that relationships change when allies are made to protect one another and shed blood together.

Fighting the rogue mages and Templars in her Circle rebellion brought her closer to Edmund, and it had happened again with Solas, Cassandra, and Varric as they worked their way through the Hinterlands. The solid trust was one of many reasons she kept them with her on her current missions.

Gwen’s face flashed with concern when they neared him. "Should you be up and about?"

"I'll be fine. I've had injuries before, you know. Lots." Her cautious tone made him smile.  Alistair rubbed his shoulder, flexing his arm at the elbow. "Your healer is quite good at what he does, I might add. I'm barely sore and only a little stiff."

Gwen lowered her hood as soon as she stepped into the cave entrance and bit her lip with worry. " I feel terrible about your injury.”

“Don’t feel bad.” The man smirked. “I'm a resilient guy.”

Cassandra and Gwen made eye contact, lifted a brow, and shared an amused smile at the Warden.

"Where were the two of you?" He asked them, eyes squinting, gazing behind the women.

The Inquisitor responded. "We cleaned up the bodies from our earlier altercation."

"Ah, I'm assuming that blackened spot of earth is your doing then?"

Her fingers came to her mouth, covering her widening grin. "Yes."

Cassandra broke in, "Her methods are effective, if somewhat... overzealous."

Their joined laughs resounded through the cave mouth as Cassandra began walking inside. She paused a moment when Gwen held back with Alistair.

“Go ahead, Cassandra. We’ll be right behind you.”

The Seeker nodded and walked into the cave interior. Gwen waited until she was out of sight before turning around to see Alistair, his brow lifted with a charming curiosity.

“I have a proposition for you and Hawke." The mage said vaguely, taking a step towards the cave. “Will you hear me out?”

He looked a bit dismayed. "You know, I really should be getting on to the Western Approach and that Tevinter Ritual Tower. Preferably before it, you know, lives up to its name-- but, yes, I’ll hear what you have to say."

"Thank you. I promise, I'll just keep it short. And should you refuse my proposal, then you can go about your own business as soon as possible."

"Agreed."

Alistair stood, waving his good arm ahead of himself. "Ladies first."

Gwen smiled and stepped into the cave, making her way to the main room where the rest of her companions waited, conversing quietly. “Would you all come in here? We need to do some planning for the days to come and I have something in particular I’d like to ask our newest allies.”

When the six companions found their place around the room, they all looked to the chestnut haired woman expectantly. In a pang of nervousness, a spark escaped Gwen’s mark and she blushed, reaching across the table to grab a pair of long deerskin gloves. She pulled them up her forearms as she began to speak.

"Alistair, Hawke, what would you say if I… we... asked you to stay on with us here in Crestwood, at least until the business with the lake rift is finished?"

Hawke tilted his head and looked at Varric who shrugged. “The Grey Warden and I are a matched set. We share the same mission and so, I go where he goes.”

Alistair paced about the room and considered what she said for a moment. "I…" He struggled with his words before putting on a professional tone and answering, "I would say that, though personally I may desire to help these people, my duty is to the Grey Wardens."

"Hmph," there came a dissatisfied noise from Gwen.

She bent over the table with her arms spread, looking down at the map of Crestwood before her. "Please, don't take offense to what I'm about to say."

There was a pause, then she stated, "What you intend to do in the Western Approach, it doesn't make a lot of sense to me... strategically."

Suddenly and uncharismatically, the Warden’s face contorted. "What is _that_ supposed to mean, exactly?"

Gwen paused, hearing the tension in his voice. From behind her, she felt Cassandra place a warning hand on her shoulder and the Inquisitor lightly nodded her off. Collecting her thoughts, she proceeded with what she hoped would be friendly attempt at criticism. “The two of you intend to travel there alone and _wait_ for us to arrive before you even visit the ritual tower; you admit you need our strength added to your own to complete this task, correct?

Alistair rounded on her, clearly agitated, his voice rising slightly as he spoke. "I thought the days of headstrong young women overruling my plans was over, but I see the Maker has a cruel sense of humor.”

The Grey Warden’s outburst brought all eyes in from their corners of the room and not a word was spoken. He continued feverishly without allowing Gwen to interject. “You're _barely_ an adult and you ask me in here, under the pretense of some sort of proposal, to question my tactical skills?! I've been with the Warden's for nearly ten years. TEN years. You and I fought a couple of corpses this morning and now you think you can casually judge me on my stratagem?"

The words were cutting, but the Inquisitor stood taller, her hard eyes following him around the room. Gwen attempted to placate him, her voice still calm despite her heart racing. “You were brilliant this morning, and I have no qualms about your skills in battle, but be _reasonable…_ I know how to strategize and utilize my resources in the best possible way. Four solid months with my advisors have afforded me that.”

Almost ignoring her plea, he stood still and with a sad desperation in his voice, he sighed. Hawke left Varric's side and stood next to him, trying to calm him down with a steady hand. He just shook the archer's hand from his arm and came to stand directly across the table from Gwen.

Pounding the table, he stared into her sage-green eyes. "I have to do something. They're going to destroy themselves! I cannot --will not-- allow it!"

Gwen looked up into his fiery stare and gave him an imploring look. He was first and foremost a Grey Warden and it was clear he had a rigid plan in place, however faulty it had seemed to her. It occurred to her at that moment that unlike her, Alistair had no one to advise him, save the wild and unruly Hawke. The Warden was riding blind and doing the best he could. He’d been a soldier forced into this position and he needed help.

Overconfidence had clouded her usual finesse and she took a deep breath in an attempt to repair the damage. “You mistake my words for harsh criticism, when all I want to offer you is a stronger solution. I'm sorry. I truly didn't intend to upset you. I know we barely know one another but, just _listen_ to what I have to say, that's all I ask."

He said nothing, but gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“You said yesterday that waiting makes your irritable. I can guarantee that you’ll be waiting should you decide to leave Crestwood before us.”

Hawke finally spoke up. “We’ll be waiting, you’re right, but I’m sure there’s something we can do in the meantime.”

Gwen cut in before the rogue could speak again. "Be realistic--you’ll be waiting for weeks with nothing to do but walk around in the desert, lacking the support you’ll need to do anything more than… than twiddle your thumbs!”

Hawke nodded, a sly grin creeping onto his lips. “I happen to like twiddling my thumb.”

Gwen blinked slowly at him with a raised eyebrow before returning to her point. She pressed her long finger at the map location of Crestwood. "The Inquisition is needed here, and I don't leave unfinished business before I depart an area. I want you here with us. Help us finish and then we’ll help you. We can return to Skyhold together where we can gather information and prepare before we head into the Approach. I can even write to my advisors and have them send a forward scout into the area." She paused, waiting for their reaction.

Though his expression was still angry Alistair calmed down considerably and answered her. "I appreciate what you’re trying to do and I understand, despite my outburst, but I'm still not totally convinced. It just seems… wrong not to head directly at my enemies."

She walked up to him then, her voice was calm and kind as she spoke in a near whisper. "Believe me, Alistair, I understand more than anyone. If I could, if I was strong enough alone, I'd walk right up to Corypheus, blast him with a massive fireball in the face and end him before more blood is shed. But, that's not the way things work. We have to _plan_ and _organize._ There could be weaknesses we could exploit that we’d never know if we went directly at him. More lives could be lost without preparation."

Alistair's shoulders dropped in defeat and he turned to face her. "You're right, I suppose."

With his first small move toward acceptance she ranted on. "You and I, we make a decent team both organizing our information, and on the battlefield. In one short day, we've proven that. Imagine what we can do together in a week, a month even! By the time we're ready to confront the Wardens, you'll have a group of companions that work together like a well-oiled machine."

Varric broke in, "You haven't been training in persuasion with Nightingale, have you?"

"Varric…" She rolled her eyes at him. "Not helping."

The dwarf only shrugged and grinned at her.

Gwen was still perched next to the Warden. "Don't listen to him: this is not a farce. I'm speaking from what I see and what I know to be true, Alistair." She held out her hand for him to take, should he choose to.

He stood tall and looked her straight in the eye, "I will stay with you here, until the job is done." His right hand reached out and held hers. "But I'll keep you to your promise: As soon as we’re finished, _you_ help me." She felt a slight squeeze before he let her go.


	4. Help

xXXXx

 

As soon as their discussion ended, Alistair left the cave. He returned to the cave later that afternoon to find the Inquisitor reading outside in the orange light of the falling sun, undoubtedly waiting for him. When she saw him coming up the path, she bolted upright and met him halfway, her apology spilling out awkwardly. “I'm sorry--”

“I apologize--” His came nearly simultaneously so that their words jumbled in confusion.

Together they smiled timidly and Gwen spoke first. “I made a terrible assumption that we were _friends_ with one another after fighting together. The reality is that other than stories and some random facts, I don't know you.”

Alistair averted his eyes to the ground and pulled nervously on his ear. “True. Though, I assume that after my ridiculous and emotional outburst, you won't want to.”

“No!” Gwen started, then tisked herself. ‘I mean-- yes, I do!”

He swayed in his step. “I said some disrespectful things.”

Her cheeks lit up with a pink hue. “I was callous.”

His hand reached up to rub his neck. “I… _may_ have some trouble making strategic decisions in the grand scheme.”

She piped up brightly. “But your field tactics are legendary.”

“I don't know about legendary…” Alistair chuckled. “Your plan for the Western Approach is a better one, I didn't want to admit it, but it's true.”

“Thank you.” Gwen nodded slowly. “I think we’ll make fine allies over time.”

“Agreed.”

Flushed, she nodded to calm herself and find her words. “We should start over.”

“How so?”

She smirked and stated in a mock pleasant voice, holding out her hand to the man before her. “Hello, my name is Gwen. Research and fireballs are my specialty.”

“I'm Alistair.” He returned with a grin, shaking her hand firmly. “I can hack and slash my enemies from here to Orlais and not break a sweat.”

 

.

 

When they returned from the entryway, the others could feel the tension between them fading. Gwen gathered the entire group together to make preparations for the next day.

Gwen sat down at the table where their discussion took place the night before. Pouring herself a cup of ale, she turned to speak with the Seeker, pointing to the pack of correspondences under the table. “I've got to take to the camp just south of here. I’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow. It should only take a couple hours.”

Cassandra sat on a nearby rock, rubbing a cloth along the length of her sword. "Very well, I'll prepare our packs.”

The Inquisitor held up her hand. "Wait, there’s no need for all of us to go. I’ll only be gone a short while.”

Alistair unpacked his bedroll and laid it out on the floor again. He turned to her with narrowed eyes. “Inquisitor, you shouldn’t go alone, not with all the corpses walking around.”

“I agree with the Grey Warden.” Solas interrupted, standing as he spoke. “I will accompany you.”

“Two mages?” The Warden stiffened his spine. “She might as well go alone.”

The elf rolled his eyes. “I am quite capable of defending myself and the Inquisitor, if need be.”

Gwen intervened. “Solas, go with the rest, they’ll need a healer if there's trouble.”

“And should you encounter trouble? What then?” Alistair interjected. “Solas can go with the rest, but I’m coming with you.”

The Inquisitor relented, nodding curtly to the Warden.

Varric and Hawke could be heard chatting in the adjoining chamber and Solas sat before the fire, organizing his collection of dried herbs.

Raising her voice, she called out so that all could hear her. "So, it's settled then: Alistair and I will deliver the reports to the camp, while the rest of you scout further south. Once we regroup, we'll all head west until we reach the dam." Gwen stated, pointing at various locations on the map of Crestwood.

Hawke sidled up to her, squinting at the map. "I don't understand why we're splitting up. And why are we meeting _there_?" He sneered, pointing to a drawing of a house.

The Inquisitor pointed to herself. "Our detour is important; those missives need to go out immediately. We only need a small group to make that happen. Simply, we cover more ground if we split. And there," Gwen pointed to the map, "is a small homestead."

Hawke tilted his head in confusion and Varric broke in, "Look, we promised we'd search the area for a missing woman from the village."

Gwen popped open her codex, flipping to a page near the front. "Judith, is her name."

Alistair held his chin in his right hand and rocked slightly, his entire face smiling at their interaction.

Gwen noticed his change in posture. "Something to add?”

"I've just been here before."

The small crowd shared a confused look.

"Not here as in Crestwood _._ What I meant is: I can remember being asked by every farmer or Chantry sister to help with their menial tasks when I traveled during the Blight. I think it demonstrates patience and care that you'd go to the trouble, that's all."

Gwen gave him a warm smile. “Thank you. We're _are_ trying to improve our reputation across Thedas, so it isn't completely selfless. Personally, I think the small deeds are the way to do it. Gossip travels so much faster and is far more effective than our wordy propaganda."

She closed her journal and began rolling up the map. "I think we're squared away then. Anyone have anything else to add before we finish up?

Heads shook all around and the band dispersed to their corners of the cave to pack up their accoutrements and wait for dinner.

 

.

 

Their tasks completed at last, they all decided to sit together, eat, and converse for the rest of the night. Thanks to Hawke, there was roast hare with horseradish and wild carrots for dinner and there was ale: a small oak barrel found in the cave. With six partaking, one being Hawke and one being a Warden, it was nearly emptied by the end of the night. Varric told several very captivating stories before Cassandra demanded that those not going on watch get some rest.

Feeling warm from the ale, Gwen needed some fresh air and so she went to speak with Solas before retiring herself.

He stood watch, leaning slightly against his staff. He turned when Gwen came out of the cave, his visage pensive.

"I just came to cool off a bit and to say goodnight. I'm sorry that you and I haven't had our usual evening debriefings these past two days."

"You're here now." He spoke, hopeful.

"And I'm exhausted... I just want to go to sleep." She plopped down ungracefully on the log next to him. Peering up at him she saw a small tinge of irritation in his eyes.

"Fine." She gave in and leaned back against the cave. "What's on your mind?"

"I dislike this plan, Inquisitor." As he sat, he spoke evenly, though his face was mired in worry. "That man was furious with you just hours ago. I do not trust him alone with you."

"I'll be fine, Solas. How would he benefit from harming me? We're allies, remember?" She stared at him, attempting to read his concealed emotions. "You're wondering why I want him with us, aren't you?"

"Yes." His answer came immediately.

"He will be an asset." She yawned and trailed off sleepily. "You should have seen him fight this morning."

"I saw the grisly remains and tended to his wounded shoulder at your behest. He is a powerful man, no doubt. I simply do not understand your decision to travel with him by yourself. Surely you could take Hawke, or Varric."

"And split them up? Varric is thrilled to be back with his friend. They aren't going to have a lot of time together after the Approach. Let's give them what we can. Besides, Alistair and I will be fine. It's just a short walk to the camp, then we'll meet you and continue on our way." Gwen placed her hand on his narrow shoulder.

She yawned wide. "Look, I really do need to sleep. Let us speak again tomorrow evening." She rose again and turned around toward their hideout. "I truly miss our talks and I could use another lesson on heal--"

"Inquisitor." He cut her off.

"Yes?" Gwen stopped, briefly.

He rose again and stood looking out at the twilight landscape. "Mingling desire and duty can be a dangerous game. Be wary."

Gwen's brow wrinkled in confusion and her chest panged with a sharp hurt, but she managed to respond, albeit weakly, "I don't know what you’re insinuating but--”

He glanced at her with penetrating eyes, but did not speak, effectively cutting off her words and displaying his unhappiness at her actions in a single stare.

“Goodnight, Solas." She managed to whisper to him before turning to escape his knowing gaze.

She walked briskly into the cave and found her bedroll at its place next to Alistair. He was already underneath his blanket, his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. Gwen peered down at him as she settled onto her sleeping mat. Her insides twisted at the fresh memory of Solas' words.

She reached into her pack at her pillow and pulled out her personal journal and writing utensils.

 

...

 

_10 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Is Solas correct? Should I strike Alistair from my mind? Should I have allowed him to go on to the Western Approach alone and unprepared? Cassandra agreed with me, right? Or did she just agree with me because I'm the Inquisitor?_

 

_Leliana says I need to relax and enjoy myself from time to time. Solas thinks I should be wary and not mix business with pleasure. And I have no idea what to do._

_This man to my left, the one I'm watching as he sleeps… he makes my heart jumps a little. What does that mean? Is it excitement at traveling with a hero, infatuation, or something else?_

_I promised myself I'd have_ _no doubts, no regrets._ _The journey is far from over, it’s too soon to be second guessing my decisions._

_Maker, give me the strength to see it through. Give me the poise to keep a level head._

_I'm still not sure what to do about my feelings, but tomorrow is a new day and with its arrival, perhaps a new perspective on my dilemma._

_…_

Her journal stowed and her mind eased by her confession, Gwen laid down on her back and drifted off to sleep.

Beside her, two honey-brown eyes opened and found her face in profile. In another minute they closed again, though the curve of a smile was left on the Warden's face as he too fell asleep.

 

xXXXx

 

The scent of cooked eggs and meat, indicated that breakfast was being prepared and Gwen rose happily from her bedroll. She found Cassandra making plates for everyone and helped her tear portions of bread for each and pour the last of their ale equally into six leather mugs. The women then roused the rest of their companions, besides Varric who was on watch.

Gwen pointed to Solas, "You wake him. He's impossible when he's walking in the Fade." She was still upset from his words the night before, a fact that the Seeker didn't need to know.

Cassandra growled lightly and walked over to him, kneeling beside him and shaking his arm in a fury.

The Inquisitor knelt next to Hawke and shook him roughly too. His eyes opened and he jumped with a start. "Got you back from the rough awakening at my watch." She grinned and stood up.

"You'd better let me get Alistair." Hawke's groggy voiced warned and he tried to stand, but stumbled.

Gwen shook her head. "Nonsense. Go, eat."

She knelt beside him and quickly reached out to touch his shoulder.

"No, Inquisitor.” Hawke again warned. “Damn it, wait--"

No sooner had her fingers touched him, he sprung up and caught her right wrist in his right hand. He rolled his weight on top of her, pressing his body into hers forcefully. Her arm was pinched between the two of them and pressed into his unarmed chest. His other hand was threatening to tighten around her neck. His eyes were wild; like they were after their attack. Gwen swallowed hard. Her breath was ragged and she gripped his shirt tightly as she stared back into his eyes, frozen in confusion beneath him.

Hawke pulled at the man’s shoulder to no avail, instead keeping Alistair’s hand from encircling Gwen’s neck. He kept at it until the Warden came into the waking world. It was a full minute before Alistair came to realize what he was doing, and he looked down into Gwen's startled eyes, horrified by what he'd done. He loosened and rolled away from her, sitting up immediately facing the other direction.

"Maker's breath! Didn't I warn everyone about waking me up?" He ran his hands roughly through his hair.

"I guess the Inquisitor forgot to jot that one down in her little notebook." Hawke said snidely, and chuckled, catching his breath on the floor of the cave with the pair.

Gwen slowly stood up, rubbing her wrist and neck. "Oh, I won't forget that piece of information ever again." She coughed out a laugh. "What _happened_? I barely touched you."

Hawke answered sardonically. "He gets nightmares. They're very vivid.”

"Yes. That's putting it lightly.” Alistair stood, now looking Gwen over for any harm he may have caused her. “It's a Grey Warden thing."

“Man’s like a cobra.” Hawke tipped his chin to Gwen. “Use your foot next time and be prepared to snap it away before he strikes."

Solas was awake now and he glowered at Alistair. The incident only fueled his uncertainty toward the Warden.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" The Warden came to Gwen's side and reached for her wrist, examining it gently. His eyes lingered to her neck to check for bruises there.

The new sensation was so severely different from his actions moments ago that it would difficult to believe they had some from the same person, had Gwen not experienced it herself.

"Maybe some light bruising. It was my fault. No harm done. I was really only startled." She reassured him, pulling her hand back slowly.

"Breakfast is getting cold, people." Cassandra's voice rang out.

 

.

 

As the rest of the group finished packing up necessities, Gwen was in the deep of the cave with the Warden. He'd removed his armor after being wounded the day prior and was now attempting to get it back on.

"How goes it?"

She watched him with interest as he pulled on his boots up to his knees. Alistair finished and stood, stretching his arms over his head with a pained groan. He was wearing simple clothes: a cream-colored cotton shirt, open at the collar, revealing a braided gold chain that dipped below the shirt, and worn grey leather trousers. She spared a few moments to appreciate Alistair in this form: completely disarmed.

He called to her. "Just fine. I'll be right out."

She almost turned to leave, but stayed and watched him again as he pulled on his slate-blue gambeson with relative ease. She caught site of torn fabric below his shoulder and a bloodstain where he was shot, but it wasn’t the only bloodstain on the garment; the thing was in need of a good washing. He then began to pull the heavy scale mail over his head, but when he reached his injured arm up high he gasped in pain. The other arm was tangled in the body of the garment.

She walked over quickly, a small laugh escaping as she came to his side. "Here, let me help you."

A long audible sigh escaped his lips and he reluctantly conceded, "Alright." His face reddened at the need for her assistance.

"Come here." Gwen pulled him gently.

He walked with her, still tangled in the mail. In order to stand taller than the Warden, she rose to stand on a rock in the cave and lifted the piece above him so that all he needed to do was raise his arms as it slid down his body. Gwen hopped lightly to the ground and smoothed the scale mail out around his frame and buckled the side ties. He tensed slightly as her hands moved over his shoulders and down his sides.

"Relax." She said smiling as she turned her back to retrieve the chest piece. "Alright. Ready for the rest?"

He nodded and she brought the chest piece up and onto his arms, one at a time, careful not to cause him any discomfort. As she pulled it into place she stood in front of him. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She fell into what seemed to be a familiar dance, moving around him quickly to fasten the buckles at the back.

The display was not lost on Alistair and he commented on it. "You’re pretty good at this. Where did you squire?" He jibed in a low voice.

Her eyes lost their mirth and she looked up at him, unsure of what to say. His request was innocent enough, but her answer was quite personal. "I had a Templar friend in the Circle and I would… help him into his armor from time to time. Not that this is as complicated as what Templars wear, but armor is armor. The layers are the same."

Alistair breathed out a short laugh. "Let me guess: you helped him _out of it_ from time to time as well?" His voice was coated with amusement and a sly grin started to spread across his face.

Gwen looked down, ashamed at herself for speaking about her former lover in such a callous way. "Yes. We were… close. And before you go assuming anything else, it wasn't just a dalliance, I cared for him." She turned away from him to pick up the tasset piece.

Alistair's smile dropped. "Damn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He turned around and walked toward her and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I forget we only just met yesterday and I should keep a professional tone. The comment was uncalled for and I apologize."

"No, it's alright, really. My tone has been less than professional as well. And regarding the Templar... I just haven't had a lot of time to think about him, with heading the Inquisition and all." She said quietly.

"If you want to talk… I can be a good listener."

Gwen turned around to face him again, surprised at his sudden compassion. His hand still rested on her shoulder. She smiled. "Perhaps."

Alistair nodded solemnly.

Next came the tasset piece, which fastened around the waist. Gwen lifted and attempted to sling it around him. "Maker, this is heavy. Do you think you could hold it while I fasten it?"

"Sure." With the smile still on her face from his words, she slipped the tongue through the buckle and pulled firmly. Alistair swayed and inhaled. She chuckled, adjusting and lifting it higher with his help and finally fixing the belt in place at his waist.

Hanging low under his armor was another thin belt and she knelt before him, grabbing for it. “What's this belt here?”

"Which one?” He looked down, confused for a moment before realization took hold. “No. You don't have to do that one--"

But she already held it firm in her hands before she realized why he asked her not to: it was the belt to his leather trousers. The realization of where she was kneeling and what she had in her hands crossed through her mind and she silently prayed to the Maker that no one would venture into the cave and see her predicament.

Gwen paused with the ends still in her hands, unsure of how to proceed and said quietly with downcast eyes, "Oh, your… trousers. Yes, precarious location. You wear them lower than I'd expect. I didn't realize--"

“I wear that belt lower on my waist for flexibility in movement.” He looked down to her and then where she knelt, then straight up to the ceiling of the cave in embarrassment. "You're there now and _really_ I don’t want to move in case we  _agitate_ this situation even further. We're adults. Just, buckle it." He cleared his throat. "Quickly."

"Right, of course." She turned her focus on the task, grumbling. “Why didn't you buckle it before now?”

“It's usually the last thing I do in case I have to… relieve myself before travel or battle.”

“Smart.”

Gwen's hands moved quickly without any errant movements. When she was finished, she rose in haste and she walked around him. She pulled at the armor, refastening buckles where needed, and made a silent assessment of him: He looked good, especially with the slight flush from their contact.

The woman turned to pick up his worn leather gloves and held them out for him to take, giving him a small smirk. "I think you can handle these."

Lifting them from her hands, he responded cheekily. "Yes, thank you, Inquisitor."

"Call me Gwen." She replied happily and walked out to talk to join the others, leaving the man with a smirk of his own.


	5. Bitten

xXXXx

 

With the waxed-canvas bag of messages for Skyhold slung over her shoulder, the Inquisitor and her newest Grey Warden companion set out for the nearest Inquisition camp. The sky was a stormy dark grey and the clouds obscured the warmth of the sun. Rain fell in large, sparse drops on their cloaked heads. Their journey would take a few hours, at the most, and then they would meet the rest of their party near the homestead on the hill.

They both equipped their weapons not wanting to be caught without them in the event of another attack. Setting a leisurely pace, the pair conversed lightly finding that they had more in common than they thought. More walls were coming down between them.

 

.

 

"Oh my goodness, I _know_! South Reachers know their aged cheddar. I recently partook of a sample that had been aged 5 years. There were these delicious salt crystals imbedded in it." Gwen drooled. "Is it lunch yet?" They both laughed.

"Yes, but have you ever tried any of the brie from Monforte? I make sure the kitchen keeps it in constant supply at home. I get cravings in the middle of the night sometimes… with crusty baguettes and fig jam." They both laughed again at his admission.

"Oo, hold on. I see a huge patch of elfroot there, under that tree. And I think I have some jerky in my pack if you're hungry."

"I _am_ a little hungry, thank you." He responded as he removed his gloves, tucking them into the belt of his tassets.

She placed her pack on a large boulder and he began searching through it for the food.

A few paces away she called out to him, "Stop me if I'm being too intrusive, but I've heard that Wardens eat wagon-loads of food each day. Is it true?”

"That is a little stretch, but not by much. We do consume more than non-warden folk. I don't know about wagon-loads though. I admit that over the years my appetite has grown and sometimes I just shovel the food in as fast as I can chew."

"Really? You must've been exercising great control at breakfast then." She smiled at him as she filled a small fabric bag with the herbs.

"Well, I try to keep myself from looking the part of the savage when in the company of people other than Wardens." Alistair grinned.

Gwen paused to look up at him; he was devouring the jerky. They had not been on the road an hour yet and he had eaten a substantial amount of food at breakfast. He should not have been hungry. Gwen shook her head, chuckling lightly.

Finished with her gathering, she moved over to the boulder on which he sat and placed herself next to him. Removing her own gloves, she grabbed a piece of jerky and began to chew it. After she was finished, she took a sip from her water skin.

Alistair sat next to her, a somber expression growing on his face. "About this morning, when I attacked you… I'm sorry. When I'm in a deeper sleep, the dreams become more intense, almost lifelike in their terror. Once I get used to having companions, I can control it better, I think. Hawke used to wake me with a long stick when we started traveling together. "

"He's a darling man, isn't he?” Gwen asked sarcastically.

Alistair raised his eyebrows, chuckling. “He's not that bad once you get used to him.”

“Don't worry about the attack; I said it was fine and I meant it. You didn't harm me. I was foolish to have disregarded Hawke's warning.” Gwen shrugged it off.

"Alright."

She took another small bite. "I noticed you managed to sleep late this morning as compared to the first night.”

"I did, curiously." His voice dropped low. He edged himself closer to her on the boulder. "I thought to mention this earlier, and even now I can't be sure, but I feel as if I'm sleeping more soundly since your arrival.”

Gwen flushed. “Perhaps your mind is at ease now that you have allies to aid in your quest.”

“Perhaps." Alistair gently touched the back of Gwen's left hand. She turned it as he did, but it was still closed into a loose fist. "Your mark, may I see it more closely? I've been curious about this since the stories about your survival started circulating. I didn't get a chance to ask the first night."

She shivered at his touch, but nodded. Deep inside her chest, her heart began beating rapidly. He gently brushed her fingers away from the palm. The Warden's own long fingers moved behind her hand, supporting it. His hand was large and calloused on his palm, and it felt quite warm while it cradled hers. His thumb caressed the mark, which now from being exposed, was sparking lightly. Without intending to, Gwen gave a hoarse whimper. Alistair's eyes shot up to hers, intense.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered to her.

Composing herself, she stared down at her hand and began to speak. "Not right now, no. There are times when it pains me, but I can always manage it. When I close a rift, it pulls at me, all the way up my arm, like there's a string attached inside my flesh. I keep it covered most of the time, otherwise it does this."

Alistair returned his hypnotized gaze to the mark. "It's fascinating…"

"Wait until I get close to a fade rift; fascination can turn to terror as I crackle and glow." She gave him a wry smile, but he was still studying her hand.

"You could have asked to see it at any time, you know. It's usually the first thing asked when I meet someone new." Gwen's words drew him back from his trance and he blinked at her, letting go of her hand.

"That would be like asking to see an ill-placed tattoo, or something. Seems personal."

"And what makes today different?" She questioned.

He coughed. "Oh, ah… Today feels more like a lazy walk in the field with a friend than real work."

"A friend, you say?" She questioned.

He shrugged. "Yes?"

The curve of Gwen's mouth turned upward and she spoke quietly. "I quite like the sound of that."

Alistair's eyebrows raised and he said drolly, "Well, how can we _not_ be friends, what with our equal love of fine cheeses."

They both laughed.

Gwen held out the small bag filled with dried meat. "More jerky?"

He grabbed a large piece and tore at it ferociously, even childishly. Gwen turned her head away and laughed.

"What?" He acted offended as he devoured the rest of the piece he was given.

"You're ravenous! We just ate breakfast not too long ago."

"It's a Warden thing, what can I say?" He stood, reaching out his hand to help her rise. "Shall we keep moving?"

"Yes."

Upon standing, Gwen pulled her gloves on and stowed the meat in her backpack again. Tying it tightly, she pulled it onto her back along with the bag of letters. Alistair made eye contact with her as she was adjusting her wool cloak to cover her head. His expression bore intrigue and his defenses were lowered, thus allowing Gwen the opportunity to learn more about her Warden friend.

"So, I've heard about other Grey Warden _appetites..._ "

At that, the warden coughed and cleared his throat. "Oh. What… ah… exactly have you heard?"

"Understand that I mean no harm nor disrespect to the order, it's just a curiosity."

"Of course." He mumbled.

Gwen continued, unfazed by his awkwardness. "In the Circle I spent a lot of time reading and studying. That earned me a pass to a particular section of _unorthodox_ books. There were all sorts of things, all very interesting. I'm not even sure I should be telling you this. I know how secretive the Grey Wardens can be."

"Go on." His facade changed to a curious one at her confession.

"I found a detailed journal from one of the mage wardens from ages ago, and he wrote about his um, inordinate amount of stamina on the battlefield and… in the bedroom… it was quite detailed. Sustaining his _passion_ for hours--"

Alistair's face reddened and he hastily cut her off, breathless, "Maker's breath, stop! I think this might cross the line of casual conversation!"

Gwen belted out a laugh. “Oh dear, I'm sorry. The look on your face was _precious!"_

He scoffed at her. "So, you were teasing me?"

She thought for a moment before responding. "Yes?”

“I _try_ to be a gentleman, you know, and regardless of the jest, I don't feel that this is an appropriate topic for a lady such as yourself."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "While I'm grateful for the chivalry, you needn't bother: I'm just another companion, Alistair. I truly am curious if what I've read was true, though. You're the first Grey Warden I've met who will actually speak about the order."

"Well, that's because we've been sworn not to discuss anything. If people knew the kinds of things we have to endure, they'd probably never volunteer to join us."

Gwen nodded in disappointment, but understood.

Alistair smiled slightly, "I do plan to keep most of our secrets hidden, but however close-lipped I'd like to be, I'm going to have to tell you more about them before we encounter Commander Clarel. Plus, it seems you already have some knowledge from reading that journal."

"What does that mean exactly? That we may have this conversation _another_ time?" She teased him again.

He mused and responded quietly, adjusting his own cloak, "Perhaps… Let's just keep going."

.

Refreshed from their brief break, Alistair and Gwen continued on. The pair crested one of the small hills to the south, still talking pleasantly. They walked up a shallow incline and the mage took to the ridgeline to look out over the dreary landscape. Behind her, she heard the Warden speak up and turned to listen.

“What’s it like, ruling the Inquisition.”

“Well, it isn’t _ruling_ ; I have a body of advisors who give me the counsel I need to make decisions in military, espionage, and diplomacy. In honesty, they do all the hard work, I just have the final say. They do have a throne for me to sit on.”

Alistair lifted a curious brow. “A throne?”

“Occasionally we have public judgement of those who have done atrocious things. I try to be merciful, for the most part.”

“You hold court?”

“I sit there during the trials. It’s not the same as what a King or Queen would do... I think? I don’t know much about royalty to be honest.”

She continued. “And it isn’t truly a throne. It’s a chair with the Inquisition crest on it and it’s dreadfully uncomfortable.” She strolled further along the ridge. “Does this interest you?”

He answered with genuine intrigue, following behind Gwen and looking up to the grey sky. “I’d be lying if I said no… there’s something appealing about governing an entire keep.”

“I suppose it satisfies the want for power, but I’ve never really desired that.” Gwen said indifferently.

His eyes shot to hers and he seemed almost embarrassed. “I think that one could do a lot of good as a ruler, contrary to the need for power.”

“How noble of you.” She smiled at him. “If you’re truly that curious, I can find some books in the library at Skyhold.”

Quietly he responded. “I’d like that.”

The Inquisitor slung her shoulder pack to her front, searching inside for her notebook. “I’ll write it down, so I don’t forg--”

Alistair shushed her and held his bare hand up for her to cease talking. "It's too quiet." He whispered. "Wait here."

He walked out in front of her, listening intently, as his hand moved to the hilt of his weapon. When a sizable distance separated them, they heard the first growl. Their heads turned to one another in shock, when they realized they had encountered a pack of wolves.

"Damn beasts! Where are they?" She yelled, readying her magic and pulling her staff from her back.

Just then, one of the feral things jumped over the hill and attacked Alistair from behind. He barely drew his sword when it sunk its teeth into his wrist, where only the padded gambeson protected him. Leaping to close the gap between them, Gwen sent the animal flying back with a repulsive blast and came to the Warden's side. She erected a magical barrier around them as Alistair reached on his back where his shield was stowed. The mage helped him pull the buckler onto his left arm as the wolves appeared around them.

"Maker, you’re hurt." She could see the torn fabric and red stain growing, sending rivulets of blood down his hand.

"I'm okay." He replied with a cringe.

She attempted to reach for his arm, but he pulled it away. “You’re not okay.”

"I’ll survive. Remember: Grey Warden stamina." He winked at her and shield bashed one of the incoming wolves square in the jaw. There was a bone crunching sound as he did so. A moment later, his sword found its place deep in the animal's chest as it staggered, disoriented from the head blow.

They mimicked the battle stance from their first fight together, though now Gwen was able to defend herself with her staff in hand. Still, she stayed behind him facing outward as they were being circled by five dark-furred wolves.

"I hate fighting wolves." Gwen said through heavy breaths.

"Just stay at my back and start throwing those fireballs. They'll try to draw us apart."

"You're injured, doubly; I have a better idea." He glanced in her direction as she conjured up a great wall of flame behind them. The wolves there ran around to the other side of the pair unable to penetrate the wall without bursting into flames.

She stood beside him, gloating, "Now we only have one front to defend."

He nodded in approval and lurched out to the nearest wolf, shield bashing and running it through the same way he'd done the other.

Gwen threw a fireball at one of the wolves to their left whose fur was already singed from the flame-wall. It panicked, rolling around on the ground. Alistair jumped over to it, putting it out of its misery with his sword yet again. Gwen noticed he was favoring his previously injured shield arm now due to the new injury on his wrist, only using his sword for killing blows. She could work with that.

That's how they continued: incapacitate and stab to death. Once refocused, they dispatched the pack with relative ease. Alistair ran the last one through the chest and turned to find Gwen crouching, to examine the dark fur on one of the carcasses.

"I'm skinning these. This fur is incredibly soft! Traveling with two mages, myself included in that, we rarely have a chance to skin any animals we kill; fire, ice, or electricity just make the furs unusable for obvious reasons. Like those two there." She pointed to two smoking masses of fur and scorched flesh.

"I can understand that and I'll help you. But first, do you know any healing spells?" He grimaced through a laugh, falling into a seated position on the grassy hill.

Gwen's hands went to cover her mouth. "Maker! I'm so sorry! I was thinking about a nice fur-lined cloak for walks on the battlements in the chilly mountains of Skyhold." She crouched over him to examine the wound while waxing poetic. His steel blue gambeson was now soaked through at the site of the bite. "You should have been wearing your gloves. I'm sorry I distracted you with jerky."

He smiled up at her. "We just need more practice fighting together, before I know what you’re capable of. Though, I now know where to put you should we encounter any more feral wildlife or walking corpses."

After removing her gloves, she returned to his wound, her mouth curving into a smile. Sitting beside him on the wet, grassy ground, she peeled the padded shirt up to his scale mail and tucked it under at the elbow. Keeping him distracted from the wound, she asked flirtatiously, “And where would you put me, Alistair?”

Distraction achieved, he blinked slowly, taken aback by her question. “ _Tactically_ speaking, I’d put you behind me, facing out; you do well back there.” He stifled a grunt of pain as she worked to remove the fabric of his undershirt.

“I concur.” Gwen hummed in response, working quickly and carefully. From her pack she found a fresh bandage to clean the wound. The wolf grabbed and tore away, as evidenced by the flesh hanging in tatters.

“Some mages need to be protected at all times, therefore in front of the guardian, but I’ve seen that you can handle yourself without my over-watching... eye.” He bit his lip when she dabbed the blood away, the dryness of the cloth pulling at the torn flesh slightly.

The mage scowled. "I'm sorry. I just need to see what I'm working with before I heal you and I have to clear some of the blood away."

He reached beside him to dig in his pack and brought out a large flask, passing it to her. "Flush the wound then, with this."

"Oh dear. It's going to hurt a lot worse for a few--" She stuttered, closing her hand around the bottle.

"Gwen." The Warden gripped her forearm with his good hand, and said, "This isn't the first time I've had alcohol poured on a wound and it won’t be the last."

"Right.” She popped the cork with her teeth, spitting it to the ground.

“Here goes then." She poured; he winced, and she got a good view of the wound. Placing the bottle securely between her knees, she reached for her mana.

A soft, white-blue glow came from her fingertips as she touched the sensitive flesh. It knitted itself together before both of their eyes. Crossing a thumb over the new skin, Gwen smiled and replaced the cork in his bottle before rising.

"Thanks." He examined her handiwork: there was a slight white line scarring the ragged edge where the bite had been and the skin tingled warmly. "How many Schools of Magic do you practice from? I've seen you use fire with proficiency and you just performed a decent heal on me."

Gwen had already begun removing the skin of one of the wolves, when she lifted her head in response, her mind forming a theory. "You're familiar with the Schools of Magic?"

She paused then without waiting for his reply and tried verbally to figure out the puzzle as she carefully skinned away. "Only Mages, Seekers, or Templars are so knowledgeable and you're clearly not a Mage… but I neither sense nor smell any lyrium on you… so, what are you? Former Templar? But there’s still that residual odor… Possibly a Seeker, but you're not _nearly_ serious enough to be one.”

Alistair waited for her to finish her rant, looking amused, still seated on the ground. He then rose to help her with the wolves and rolled his sleeves up as high as he could. “I was a Templar.”

Her face scrunched up in contemplation of what he’d said. "Why don’t you carry the scent of lyrium?"

"I actually never took my vows as a Templar, so no lyrium. I was conscripted before I had the chance, much to the dismay of the Chantry.”

Alistair paused for a moment and asked timidly. “Your files on me didn't mention my past-- I mean, my training?”

She turned to him, pausing to look him in the eyes. “No, they began at the battle of Ostagar and ended after your first meeting with Hawke during the uprising in Kirkwall.”

“I see.” He continued skinning and directed the conversation back to her.

“I actually wondered about your fighting skills yesterday morning against the corpses. You still have a little Templar fight in you." She smiled and looked over at him, finishing the first wolf and starting on the next.

“You never answered my question about your magic, by the way."

“Well, I was an Enchanter at the Ostwick Circle who specialized in elemental magic. I'm better at offensive spells and so I have enchantments that boost their power. I do, however see the practicality of knowing a few defensive spells and heals. Solas has been instructing me in the more intricate healing arts. As of now, I can heal major wounds, but only those I can see."

"Quite practical, indeed." He gestured to his own wrist.

Gwen smiled with pride at his comment. "Yes, combat healing has served me well. Edmund and I--” She heard herself speaking before the realization hit her mid-sentence. Clearing her throat, she continued. “Edmund was a Templar who fought with me during the rebellion of our Circle and on our journey to the Conclave."

Though he continued to skin, Alistair looked up to her when she mentioned the Templar. Attentive, he nodded to her to go on. Her heartbeat sped up again as she realized she was opening up to the Warden. Since she felt a new, comfortable camaraderie with him, she kept talking.

"It was the first time I'd been exposed to any true fighting in all my years at the Circle. Before then, it was sparring and training dummies or supervised classroom casting. During the Circle's rebellion and in the months of traveling to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I became adept at fighting beside Templars and the other mages. That's why I keep Solas and Cassandra with me at all times. Cassandra, she fights very similar to a Templar, and Solas, he and I balance one another out with offensive and defensive spells. It is a comfortable group and we're very good at what we do."

She looked up and added, "When we put you and Hawke into the mix, like I said: we'll be quite a striking force."

"And what about the dwarf?"

"Well... I suspect he's writing a story about me, I _need_ to keep him along for the sake of the literature he will produce." Gwen laughed at her joke.

"You aren't serious…" Alistair gazed over at her and she laughed loudly.

Gwen shrugged dramatically. "He _is_ writing all the time, but I don't know for sure if it's about me. The truth is he's incredible with that crossbow, and he's an excellent lock pick."

They skinned in silence for a few minutes until Alistair decided to speak. "I don't want to pry, but Edmund, he was at the Conclave with you, so..." He hesitated.

Gwen looked up and into Alistair's waiting eyes, and answered quietly, "He perished along with the rest."

"I’m sorry." He said with genuine sorrow.

"I am too; He was a good man." She sighed and continued cutting away the pelt. "Forgive my apparent coldness, but it all happened so fast. Before I could even register it, I was thrust into the position I now hold.”

The woman stood still, closing her eyes for a moment as she spoke with forced confidence. “That part of my life is over. I’ve tried not to dwell on the past. I'm with the Inquisition now."

"Were he to have survived, he would have never allowed me to be part of something like this. As good as he was, he was still a Templar and believed in their dominion over mages. So, I suppose it was meant to be. I _am_ happy..."

Sensing the end to her story, Alistair reflected back to his past. "We keep talking and I keep thinking how similar you and I are."

Gwen gave him that same expectant look from their first talks in the cave. It silently begged him to continue.

"I was to be a Templar, and then the Wardens conscripted me. Just like your Edmund, the Revered Mother never would have allowed me to become a Grey Warden, but I'm with the Wardens now. No other place I'd rather be, truthfully."

Gwen grinned, "Were you, ah, intimate with the Revered Mother?"

"What?! Maker, no! I said our stories were _similar,_ not exact." Alistair rolled his eyes at her bad joke.

“Sorry.” She laughed at him, then did a little prying of her own. "So _, is_ there someone special in your life?"

"No, there is not." His response came quietly from his lips.

Gwen stopped cutting. Her hands were covered in blood and she was holding her dagger out when she said, "No fellow Wardens? Lucky Weisshaupt servants? Local women in the Anderfels?"

"Not a one," he responded, his tone flat.

"How can that be true?" Gwen said, almost under her breath.

Alistair looked up from skinning and sighed, exasperated. "Firstly, there aren't an overabundance of women in the Grey Wardens, and the ones I've come across are mostly interested in more _mature_ men... or women. And well, we haven't spent enough time together for me to go into why I would _never_ dally with a servant girl."

"Hmm, and local folk?"

"I can't believe I'm even telling you this." He gave her a flustered look. "Yes, there have been a few women, local women excited to learn I'm a Grey Warden, but the relationships were short lived. It was hard to relate to them. Their interests and concerns in life were too _normal_. I always seemed to push them away, my own concerns being far from what they ever could imagine. Aaand then there's the whole secret life of the Grey Wardens thing. Women hate secrets."

The Inquisitor looked at him with a sad expression on her face. "I understand, I think."

Gwen took a deep breath, prying further. "Have you never been… in love, then?"

Alistair stopped skinning and sat back in the grass for a moment. His forearms relaxed against his shins and he looked up at Gwen who was eager to hear his response.

"You're so," he paused raising an eyebrow, " _inquisitive._ "

"Fitting, isn't it?" A wide grin formed on her face.

She finished the last cut and lifted the pelt onto a pile with the first. Turning around, she looked to Alistair. His countenance was pensive, and his copper eyes smiled at her though his mouth kept its thin line: He was carefully considering his next words.

Gwen dropped to the ground beside him to rest for a moment and pivoted her body so that she could see his kind eyes again.

Alistair let out a deep breath and threw his hands indifferently into the air. "Alright. I suppose I'll tell you."

The Inquisitor tried to follow his eyes, but he glanced away.

"There was one woman. Ages ago." He looked into her eyes before sighing again and quietly finishing. "She was the Hero of Ferelden, Mihna Surana."

"Oh. _Oh._ " With a knowing glance her tone grew low and her faced dropped its smile. "I'm sorry."

He started again, with fervor. "Don't be. We were in this impossible situation, both of us so young. There was a lot of tension and emotion, and well, I… fell in love with her. She was so capable and strong, and I admired that. Admiration turned to affection and then to love, I suppose." He turned his head away from Gwen.

She just stared at him, not knowing what else to say.

"I thought that she might even return my affection at one point, but ultimately she chose _Leliana._ So I stopped trying and focused on our duty. Near the end of the Blight, she made some rash decisions and started spiraling down a dark path. We stayed friends the first few years and then drifted apart. She is still in my thoughts from time to time."

The pair sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute, then the Warden lifted himself up and went back to work on the wolf pelt, finishing it in forceful, broad strokes at the back of the animal.

"Thank you for telling me." Gwen finally got the words out.

"You know," he stood to lay the third pelt out on the pile, "I feel a weight has lifted after telling someone after all these years. It's always in the back of my mind and I haven't talked about it in so long. Why exactly did you want to know all of that?"

She responded shyly, "I'm just curious about you, that's all-- I mean, your dossier was incomplete with information about your character..."

"I see." He seemed amused.

Slightly embarrassed, she responded. “Yes, well… I like to be thorough.”

With a thoughtful smile, he paused to take a few deep breaths, then changed the subject abruptly. "Are we keeping any of this meat?"

"No, we’d never be able to carry it. Besides, I dislike wolf meat. We will most likely have something to eat when we get to the camp."

"Good." The Warden called to her with a grin. "I'm starving."

“Wagon-loads of food doesn’t seem like much of an exaggeration anymore.”

“Hey, it’s been almost an hour since I had anything to eat!”

They'd just finished skinning the last wolf, when the rain started up again, allowing them to rinse their hands before replacing their gloves. After pulling their cloaks over their backs and heads, they found a dry empty sack in their belongings. In went the pelts and they continued on their way, as Gwen incinerated the pile of carcasses they left behind. The two strolled the misty landscape in a friendly silence, contemplating their conversation since they'd left the cave. Within a half hour, they were at the camp. 


	6. Anticipation

xXXXx

 

Gwen and Alistair strode up to the camp and were welcomed heartily by the soldiers posted there. The Inquisitor began talking to her people, placing a friendly hand on each of their shoulders. Alistair watched her from a short distance, admiring her. She handed the waxed canvas bag to the officer at the camp and shook the woman’s hand. She then walked over to another soldier and spoke with him, handing off the sack of furs. Afterwards, she came walking slowly back to Alistair.

"It's done. The correspondence will leave for Skyhold within the hour with the courier and my furs will be tanned there.” She grinned.

"Excellent."

"Now, you're hungry, I know. I'm actually quite famished myself. I propose we eat and then travel to meet with our companions.

"Sounds good. What did your soldiers have prepared?" Alistair sniffed the air.

Gwen ducked under a canopy and walked over to a bubbling pot full of stew sitting atop a small stove. "Looks like stew."

"Rabbit stew, your worship!" Called one of the soldiers. "Care for a couple bowls?"

"Yes, thank you Denholm, that would be lovely."

The man cleared away some papers from the requisition table and sat two steaming bowls of stew with bread and ale for the Inquisitor and her companion. Another female soldier brought two stools out of one of the thick canvas tents. Alistair and Gwen sat down, thanking the soldiers for their hospitality before beginning to eat. Both were hungry, so they began to eat in silence.

Alistair stopped eating a moment later, his spoon still in his hand, and looked into Gwen's sage-green eyes, "Thank you, for today. For your kindness and conversation. This was a good diversion from my normal day-to-day."

"You're welcome. I enjoyed myself as well, despite our run-in with the wolves."

They laughed together and she continued. "I'm glad we had a chance to travel together at our own pace. It was a much needed break for me too. Since the days ahead are going to be intense, it was worth the morning's change of pace." She lifted her mug and thunked it against his as he lifted it. "To new friends."

"To new friends." Alistair hummed and held her eyes as he took a sip of ale.

Gwen smiled shyly at him, and they both continued eating.

The Inquisitor finished her stew and picked at her bread, absentmindedly. She looked out to the south and wondered how the rest of the group was faring. The scraping of wood against wood brought her out of her thoughts.

Alistair looked up from his task of removing every last drop of stew from the bowl. "What?"

"I'm surprised you aren't licking the bowl clean."

"I do have _some_ reservation."

Gwen laughed. "Do you want another bowl?"

"Could I? You... you don't think that would be asking too much?" He asked, almost pathetically.

She grabbed his empty bowl with a mock scowl and went over to the pot of stew, spooning it in until it was almost too full to carry back to the table. He looked up at her from the table as she placed it in front of him, his eyes gleaming as if she was giving him a bowl full of gold coins. A warmth spread across her chest and she blushed at him. The Warden didn't notice because he was too busy consuming the latest bowl of stew.

Gwen brought out her personal journal, pen and ink and she started writing to organize her thoughts.

 

...

 

_11 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Crestwood, Southeastern Camp_

_Yesterday I had some doubts about this all, but today-- I'm sure this was the right thing to do, in more than one way._

_We spent the morning together. There was talk of cheese, fights with wolves, healing, and now, stew. He just gave me this look that melted my heart. So pure and innocent, like Leliana described him in her stories. There is something underneath his hard exterior, something I find very endearing. I know he's been through so much and quite far removed from that boy on the outside, but could he still be there at his heart?_

 

_…_

 

Gwen put her pen and ink down when she was approached by Denholm again. This time he carried another small wooden bowl with him. He placed it in front of the Inquisitor.

"Your worship, we found these at an abandoned farm nearby. Had to harvest them all before they turned to mush in this rain. We've all had our fill and would like you have them."

Gwen looked down at the bowl that held about a dozen small, red, heart shaped fruits. She gasped. "Strawberries?" She reached out her hand and touched Denholm's forearm gently. "Thank you. You have no idea how this warms my heart."

He blushed at the sentiment he was given and gracefully bowed and backed away. She popped one whole into her mouth, relishing at its freshness. Her eyes rolling back into her head slightly, she chanced a glance over to Alistair. He had finished his stew and was silently begging her for one of the small fruits.

"Oh." She muffled, her mouth still filled with the fruit. "You want one of these, I take it?"

"You're not going to share?" He scoffed at her jovially. "Then don't eat them in front of me! It's torture."

Gwen nudged the bowl over to him. "Just don't gobble them all up before I get another."

 

.

 

Sated from a hearty lunch, the pair left the camp as the clouded sun rose to its peak in the sky.

Making their way southward, they came across a few dead bandits. They shared a knowing glance and pushed on with more speed, hoping to shorten their travels to the homestead. They stuck to the South road, seeing another pair of bodies slumped against a boulder, one with Varric's crossbow arrow fixed neatly into his eye socket. The bandits were certainly plentiful in this area.

A few moments later they had climbed a hill in the road and were greeted by a perturbed Cassandra.

"Where in the Maker's name have you been?!" She ushered them to the door of a modest farmhouse at the precipice of the hill.

"We ran into some trouble. I noticed you did too. We're going to have to be careful with so much activity on these roads."

"That's not the worst of it, Inquisitor. Come inside, warm yourselves. We need to talk."

Upon opening the door, they were barraged with voices of concern and question. Gwen placated her worrisome companions as best as she could and settled near the fire for warmth. Alistair stood behind her and the rest of the group crowded around the small hearth for deliberation.

Cassandra introduced the woman named Judith who gave the travelers information regarding the dam, amongst other things. She was more than happy to lend her house to the Inquisition for a time, and she stood at a table in an adjacent room, crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle.

Cassandra spoke first. "The bandits are holed up in Caer Bronach, a fortress about five miles to the Northwest. If you recall, that’s the _only_ way to get to the dam controls. They are inside an old tavern on a bridge. I have made a notation on our map."

"Alright. What kind of numbers do they have?" The Inquisitor asked, looking around at her companions.

Hawke spoke up first. "We can't be sure. These hills are crawling with them, so I'd imagine that they have a sizable force."

Gwen sighed, rubbing her temples with her hand. "We need to get to that dam. Suggestions?"

Alistair's voice called out from behind the Inquisitor and she turned her attention to him. "Our band is small enough to sneak up to the gates and walk right in. I've done it a hundred times with a small strike force similar to ours. They'll never expect it. From there we pick off the watchmen and make our way through the entire keep. We have two archers. Position them high, as the rest of us make our way through."

Gwen looked around to find all faces intently listening to his proposal.

He continued. "Warrior's at the front, mages to follow. It won't be quick or easy, but it can be done."

Cassandra added, "If we're going to do this, we best move as soon as possible. By nightfall, the scouts will be back and the fortress stocked for the night."

 

Varric reluctantly responded, "I don't like it. We should have more people, Trev."

Gwen looked at Alistair and considered her firsthand experience with the battle-worn warrior. He knew how to fight with a strike force and organize the players on the field, and it was time to trust him. Alistair was stifling an irritated expression, until her words left her mouth.

"It’s a sound plan. Even if we wanted more people, we can't afford to wait for reinforcements. We need to drain the lake to get to the rift. Alistair's plan is good. I know that if we focus and work together, this can be done."

She glanced at the Warden to see his face relaxing at her words.

"I still don't like it, but what choice do we have." Varric slumped slightly against the wall, resigned. "Better give Bianca a tune-up."

"Yes. Everyone prepare yourselves and give me all your potions. I need to inventory what we have." She clapped her hands together once. "Be ready within the hour."

The Seeker spoke up, "Gwen, there's one more thing we need to discuss."

"What is it?" She replied, dismayed.

"Come, see for yourselves."

She led Alistair and Gwen out to a wall beyond Judith's garden. They stood there peering into the fog that lay in the valley before them. Cassandra handed Gwen a spyglass.

"Focus, at the far wall of the ruins."

Gwen held the glass up, scanning left and right slowly until she saw it. A large reptilian wing flapped once, then another time before it settled against its owner's massive scaled body.

"Bloody hell." She said dropping the instrument into Alistair's waiting hand.

He too peered out and saw the gigantic beast moving slowly through the fog. "High Dragon. _Perfect_."

"She is apparently terrorizing the locals… and will need to be eliminated." The Seeker's tone was impassive.

"This place is abysmally horrid." Gwen said venomously, receiving a rather amusing chuckle from her Warden friend.

"You've never been to the Deep Roads, I take it?" He asked, knowing full well the answer.

She glanced up at him as he stood along the wall, arms folded across his chest. "I'm _so_ glad you're with us."

Alistair looked down at her, bemused, "Why?"

"Because you seem to have been to the worst places and had the worst experiences of anyone in the whole of Thedas and that makes me feel better about our travels and our journey thus far. Thank you." She smiled at him.

He nodded back, smirking, "I aim to please."

 

.

 

Back inside the hut, the Inquisitor glanced around the room until her eyes found Solas. He was fishing through his pack, pulling out an array of potions. She walked over to him. "Solas, Alistair was bitten by a wolf on our short walk here, could you examine him?"

Gwen could have sworn she saw him smirk at the mention of the wolf bite, but his emotion was so fleeting that she couldn't be sure.

"Of course, I'll look at it. I'd like to see how your skills are progressing. I should also mend the rest of his ailing muscles; he should be at peak health for battle."

Together they strode over to where Alistair stood by the fire and Gwen reached out for his hand and began pulling off his glove, finger by finger. The Warden tensed at her proximity and her seemingly intimate action until he realized they were playing at healer and patient, nothing more.

Solas took over the examination, rolling Alistair's arm around in his grip. "This is satisfactory."

"Satisfactory?" Gwen scoffed. "Why do you say that?" She took Alistair's arm in her hands again and held it up so that she could inspect the skin herself. She ran her fingers over the place she healed, noticing that she was producing goosebumps on the man's skin. Her eyes met his for a moment.

The Warden broke their fixation when Solas ran his finger down the Warden's wrist. "He will have a scar here: this white line will never heal. You sealed him up too quickly."

With a little more than agitation, Alistair pulled his arm away from them. "I think my wrist is fine and besides, scars are manly." He winked at Gwen.

Solas narrowed his eyes at the Warden, his voice harsher than his previous comment. "If I'm to restore your muscles to their full health, we should begin immediately."

Alistair nodded and followed Solas who directed him to a cot in an adjacent room. "Off with the armor then. We only have an hour." Solas began to pull at buckle on the Grey Warden’s chest piece but Alistair jerked away, insisting that he could shed his own armor without the elf’s help.

The Inquisitor laughed and turned her attention to her own pack, searching through it and pulling out supplies for their battle.

 

.

 

Gathering all of their resources together, along with a generous donation from Judith, the Inquisitor divided the potions up and placed them into the open packs on the table. She let out a great breath and opened the map that Cassandra had given her. Plotting a route along the ridge of a cliff rather than the road itself seemed a better idea with all of the pockets of bandits in the area. It may have been rougher terrain, but it decreased the chances of encountering resistance and getting injured before their big brawl. She rolled up the map neatly and placed it back in its case with Cassandra's belongings. Gwen sat on the surface of the table, her fingers drumming.

Alistair came to stand next to her, newly healed. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Gwen nodded confidently.

Gwen turned to gather the rest of the group and summarized the tactics again and she told them which route she intended to take. With everyone in agreement, the companions were on their way before too long.

The sun was barely in the western sky as they set off. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, which somehow seemed more irritating than the heavy downpour she'd experienced that morning. Tension was high, but Gwen did her best to reassure her people that they would prevail. Together they could do it and she knew that, she just hoped her companions had the same confidence in themselves as she had in them.


	7. Casualties

xXXXx

 

The sound of light feet clapping against the wet stone echoed out across a silent keep. They came a halt with a slide as their owner cursed, turned around the bend, and kept running along the upper battlements to her destination.

Finally reaching the highest tower, Gwen panted and looked down into her blood covered hands at the message she had scrawled out on a small piece of parchment.

 

…

 

_[ICCLLFH TOFP CLCQOSC. WODH QKLFTVOCH LDNQECLOHLFIOI CC ENEF. KTMD GCQOD. DB]_

_...decoded…_

_[STORMED CAER BRONACH. NEED IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENTS TO HOLD. MAKE HASTE. GT]_

 

…

 

She rolled the coded message tightly and placed it into one of the waxed-linen sleeves that Leliana had given her in case of emergency. From the highest point at the keep she whistled out a four note tune.

She waited and again whistled, becoming impatient.

Pacing in the light rain, her thoughts moved to her companions: some were in desperate need of healing, and they all needed to rest after their six-man siege on the fortress of Caer Bronach. It was the only option in order to gain access to the dam controls and she repeated the mantra in her mind to reassure herself that the injuries were worth the price.

The place was overrun by bandits, but with a little subterfuge and a lot of courage, the team dispatched the bandits and their over-large leader as the sun set in the bleak sky of Crestwood.

The rains continued, but the group found temporary shelter inside one of the halls of the keep. Once the fighting had ceased and the healing had begun, the Inquisitor set out to find a high tower in order to contact her Spymaster. Ultimately she knew that in order to keep this location, they'd need more people.

In a fluttering of wings and caws, one of Leliana's blackbirds landed on the stone wall. Gwen beckoned the bird over and it complied, sticking out its leg purposefully.

"Clever little guy." She huffed out a short laugh and tied the message to its leg. She gave his back a light pat and he was off, flying swiftly in the direction of Skyhold.

 

.

 

"It's sent then?" Cassandra looked up at the opened door from where she knelt, holding a cloth to Varric's head where he was hit with an errant blade during the fight. They were both dirty, wet, and blood-smeared.

"Yes. It's done." Gwen replied, closing the large wooden door behind her. "Did you secure the outer doors?"

"Yes." Cassandra replied curtly.

"And Hawke?"

"After Solas healed the gashes on his leg and arm, he found a runner in the stables. I saw him gallop away up the north road as fast as he could." Cassandra stated, stoically. "I made sure he had your letter tucked away before he set off."

"And what of Alistair?" She allowed her voice to be hopeful.

"Solas is still with him. His injuries have yet to be healed." The Seeker met Gwen's eyes and they reflected a hint of sadness.

Gwen nodded, forcing the lump in her throat. "We'll need to drain the lake as soon as we're able to."

"Tomorrow then."

"Yes, we all need rest right now." The Inquisitor sighed and spoke quietly. "Thank you. What would I do without you, Cassandra?"

Varric took a swig from a flask that he held in his hand. "What would _you_ do without her? I'd probably be dead without her…" He slurred slightly.

The Seeker smiled up at Gwen and turned toward her patient again, pulling the cloth away from Varric's head to examine the damage. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the cut was deep.

The mage came to his other side and took the cloth from Cassandra. "I'll heal this up. You should attend to yourself, or help Solas with Alistair. I'll be there as soon as this oaf is on his feet." She nudged him gently and grabbed his stubbled chin, turning his head to look at the wound herself.

Cassandra nodded and walked away through another nearby door.

"Hey! I resent that… oh--" The dwarf attempted a retort, but was thwarted by the itching, tingling sensation felt on his head.

Gwen summoned her magic and the healing tendrils of white and blue crept out of her fingertips and got to work on the damage, slowly this time. The scraped bone filled in and the muscles worked their way closed around the skull. Lastly the new skin grew across the three-inch gash that decorated his forehead. Varric groaned deeply at the sensation and gripped her knee as she worked. At last she was pleased with her work and placed a chaste kiss on his head where the wound had been. She sat before him with a sad expression on her face.

"Varric, I'm sorry. I know you were against this."

"Don't worry about it. It all worked out, right? Here, help me up." He leaned onto her shoulder and she rose with him.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking right now." She scolded him, taking his flask and putting the cork back in. "Also, you need to eat something and try to stay awake for a few hours. Head wounds can be trying on the mind."

"Alright, Doc. I'll just go and keep your _Lover Boy_ company while he's passed out. Should be some thrilling--hiccup--conversation."

"Lover Boy _?"_ Gwen gasped quietly. "What do you mean by that?”

"Don't try to fool me, you _like_ him. I didn't think you had a romantic bone in your body, Trev." He slurred. "Curly's been at you for weeks. We thought you played for the other team, actually. Boy, if Blackwall knew you had a thing for Wardens... Oooo-ee!"

"Stop. Just STOP!" Gwen said through her teeth, while pulling Varric to the wall and looming over him menacingly. "How in Thedas...?!"

Varric's voice sang out. "What kind of a rogue would I be if I let a perfectly unguarded bag of 'correspondences' go without rifling through it for a bit." His grin was as wide as she had ever seen it.

He continued. "You just left it sitting there under the table… and it was taunting me. Don't worry though, I sealed all the letters back up. No one will _ever_ notice that these prying eyes were upon them."

Gwen let him go and together they stood in the narrow corridor outside of the room where their other companions rested. She covered her face with her hands and began a smoldering rebuke. "I can't believe you would do such a thing! This is the worst... invasion of privacy—Maker, I can’t even scold you properly; I’m so embarrassed!"

The dwarf leaned his head against the wall. "I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Caring for someone makes you human, and honestly, some of us thought you left that part of you in the fade before you stumbled out at the Temple."

"I care about each and every one of you!" She paced about the hallway. "How could you even say that?"

Varric sighed audibly. "Caring about someone is more than knowing who would be the 'best' for the job. See, I know I'm the best lock-pick and well, I have Bianca… aaaaand that's why I'm always with you."

Gwen looked over to him pitifully.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." He turned his back with a slight stagger. "You've never let any of us in, except for Nightingale, and we both know you started going to see her: because you felt guilty about that freaky future Redcliffe."

"This is too much right now." She slid down the wall, her head falling into her hands as she sat with her knees propped up. "There are _reasons_ why I'm so guarded. Legitimate reasons!"

In a moment of compassion and pity, Varric knelt next to her. "You _can_ talk to people about it. I'm a great listener, though I can't promise anything you tell me won't end up in writing at some point."

They both chuckled.

His rough, wide hand came to lay on her shoulder and he shook her gently. "Don't forget why we started on this topic." She lifted her head to him and he winked. "You're starting to open up. First Leliana, now the Warden? By the end of the week you and I, we'll be best friends."

The dwarf rose and offered his hand to his leader, and she took it, standing across from him in the corridor.

A weak smile made its way to Gwen's face. "I guess I can't be too cross with you for finding out about my fascination with the Warden. You would've found out somehow sooner or later. You're just too damn perceptive."

"True. But you _do_ realize what you've done, right?" He poked her arm at each syllable.

"What have I done?" She looked at him confused, batting his hand away.

Returning fully to his jovial self, Varric trilled out. "You've given me gold, Trev! I can just picture it now: 'A wistful beauty marked by fate is doomed to roam Thedas, closing rifts and righting wrongs until she meets a handsome Grey Warden who's heard his Calling.' It's just so tragically romantic. I can't make this stuff up!"

"You've made me feel so much better about it all, Varric. Thank you." She said sarcastically and turned away from him towards the door.

"Aw, don't be all doom-and-gloom on me, sweetheart." Varric grabbed her hand as she took a step.

His visage changed. "Wait… Everything I said before about you not caring about us... well, it never meant shit to me."

Gwen pulled her head back suddenly and furrowed her brow at him in confusion.

"Just. Let me explain: I didn't mind that you were cold and determined because I knew you had the balls to get the job done when it came down to it."

"Thank you...?" She shook her head, her tone curling up as she spoke the words.

"I know that if anyone can solve this Grey Warden shit, hell, if anyone can beat Corypheus, it's you."

"You really believe that?" Her eyes dropped to the stone floor and a rush of pride washed over her.

"I do, with all my heart." Varric wasn't laughing, joking, or even smiling. His truth touched Gwen.

She smiled, whispering. "Your words, everything you've said, it means a lot to me."

She reached out to grab his hand and gave him a hard squeeze. "But if you mention this new information you've acquired regarding the Grey Warden to _anyone_ else, I'll be forced to reopen that wound I just closed up."

Varric only laughed. "You're such a charmer." She squeezed harder and he yelped. "And of course I wouldn't dream of revealing your secret!"

Gwen gave him her best dashing smile and strode away to open the door and join the rest of the group.

 

.

 

The Inquisitor walked into the room with a tipsy Varric at her heels and immediately found Solas surrounded by a glowing sea-green light that danced over Alistair's prone form. Cassandra had a pot of boiling water on the stove. She had removed her own armor and wore a loose, clean cotton shirt that hung down to her bare thighs. She tended a ragged gash on her left outer thigh and looked up as the door opened.

The room that they occupied was deep in the fortress. They chose it because it was clean, dry, and had a large table at the center. Alistair was a tall man, thick with muscle, and while unconscious, he was a mass of dead weight.  Broken and battered, the five of his companions had to carefully carry him to the inner room for immediate healing. The space must have functioned as a kitchen: there were barrels and boxes of foodstuffs lining the walls and a stove near a small window, next to the stove pipe which directed the smoke outside.

The Inquisitor went to Solas' side and Varric found a sack of flour to rest against on the floor. His eyes were fixed on Cassandra's bronze legs as she wound a bandage around her muscular thigh.

Solas' eyes were fatigued and Gwen felt that his mana stores were almost depleted.

She looked down at Alistair. His sandy hair was dull, his face was still splattered with blood from the fighting, and his armor was fully removed, save his trousers. Careful not to disturb the healer, she examined him: the worst wound was under his ribcage and curved around his right side. The skin there was deep purplish-red and blotchy. His shield arm was bruised, but his other arm looked unscathed, and on his neck, were remnants of dried blood, which had crusted onto a braided silver chain. Gently, she lifted the chain and noticed an amulet hung from it. Unclasping it from his neck, she tucked it into her pocket.

Gwen glided silently over to the stove and filled a bowl with water from the boiling pot. She took a clean cloth from a stack next to Cassandra and dipped it into the hot water. Bringing Alistair’s amulet out from her pocket, she began to wipe away the blood until the chain was shining again. Rolling the small medallion in her hand, she held it up to her face, noticing a Andraste's flame inlaid on a disk of silver. Upon closer examination, she realized the flame emblem was cracked and reconstructed, and that the silver bail was broken and reconnected with wire at some point in its life. With a gentle buffing of the amulet, she lifted the chain over her head and tucked it into her undershirt for safe keeping.

With a tired sigh, she carried both bowl and cloth over to where Solas stood, wringing the water out and cooling the cloth slightly before placing the bowl on the table and standing at Alistair's head. Touching the cloth to her lips to make sure it wasn't scalding, she began wiping the blood from the Warden's face. He didn't stir, he barely looked like he was breathing and she took another glance at his broken body as she he remembered how it happened with a fearful shiver.

 

…

 

_They had fought a good fight up until the end. Injuries were minor and their demeanor was bright. Gwen was right when she hypothesized that they would work well together.  Alistair took the lead, calling out commands from the front and she kept a calm head, responding to his direction with information from her vantage point behind the group._

_The advantages of having another experienced warrior and archer were great: Cassandra and Alistair created a double shield wall at the forefront, opening it to slash at their enemies. Solas' barrier protected their flank and rear, leaving Gwen able to concentrate on offensive spells. The archers rained arrows down from their height on the battlements and they all came together at the last set of stairs leading them to the final level. They rested and each drank a potion, rejuvenating them for the final onslaught._

_When they reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by a warrior with a giant maul and at least six other heavily armed bandits. The gigantic man's size was twice that of Alistair, but the confident Grey Warden dove right in, his attacks slowly breaking down the large man's defenses. With great agility he dodged the giant’s attacks, spinning him around to confuse him and simultaneously open his defense up for magical assaults and arrows.  Cassandra and Solas focused on the other bandits, the elf freezing them before the Seeker broke off frozen limbs. Gwen threw up barriers for Alistair and the rogues, her fire doing less damage as the rain fell harder, extinguishing the flames. In the back of her mind she chided herself for not learning a new trade from the trainers that Leliana brought to Skyhold. Her staff was her only weapon and she spilled her magic into it, powering the focusing crystal at the top and directing the frosty bolts toward her foes._

_Reinforcements kept coming in from somewhere, no one could pinpoint an exact place so they kept at their dance, though nearing exhaustion._

_Finally, the group dispatched the bandits and started focusing on the large warrior, until the giant-of-a-man was nearly defeated, kneeling on one leg. Alistair dropped his shield to perform a two-handed killing blow, but then something happened._

_It was revealed, a moment too late, that the warrior was a berserker and he raged, grabbed his maul and lifted it up one last time, slamming it with all his might into Alistair's midsection. His body was thrown a few feet and he lay crumpled and still._

_Gwen screamed and made to run for him, but Hawke jumped from his perch and caught her, holding her back. The scream provided a necessary distraction as the huge warrior turned toward the rogue and mage. They both froze in place and watched as Cassandra came from behind and jumped onto the man's back, thrusting her sword deep down into the crevice between the shoulder and neck. She was rewarded with a spray of blood as she pulled it back out and the giant fell to his knees and forward._

_Hawke finally let Gwen go as she rushed to the Warden's side and began touching his chest. "No, no no no. No blood!... no blood means no external wound!" She cried, frantically. Solas was behind her and he lay a stiff hand on her shoulder._

_"Inquisitor. I need to work quickly." He said to her as she sat dumbfounded. She had not yet learned how to heal internal wounds and was useless._

 

_…_

 

Solas allowed his magic to recede and he breathed deeply, taking a seat at a large wooden chair next to the table. With Alistair's face clean, Gwen dropped the cloth back in the bowl and looked at Solas with an apologetic expression.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes. I believe so." His voice lacked the crispness that he usually spoke with. "He'll survive, but his organs are still surrounded in blood and I cannot locate the cause at this juncture. I must rest."

"You've done so much for him. I only wish I'd been more eager to learn about internal injuries before this." She spoke with disdain for her lack of knowledge.

"I cannot teach you in mere minutes how to heal them but, if you'll allow me to use _your_ mana. I will be able to proceed with his healing."

Her face blanched. "I've never done it before, but if it will help him, I'll do it."

Solas nodded and stood again. "Come here." He pulled her to stand in front of him. His voice was husky and low. He stood close to Gwen and she could feel his form close behind her.

"Ready your magic." He whispered in her ear.

No sooner had she done so, than he began a slow mana drain on her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. Her knees buckled. Gwen let herself fall into him slightly. The sensation was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, it was as if someone was pulling out her breath as she exhaled.

"Keep breathing deeply. I'm going to pull harder. This may start to feel unpleasant at which point I want you to tell me to stop, immediately."

"Alright."

She began a deeper, more calming breath until the pull hit her and she stuttered. Refocusing her breath, she allowed him to pull at her even more deeply until the pain came and she cried out in a weak whisper, "Please, stop."

He did and she fell back against him. He lowered her into the wooden chair and she blinked slowly, her head resting on the chair arm. The last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep were whorls of green light dancing across the table.


	8. Drained

xXXXx

 

A hand brushed her cheek. Without opening her eyes, she reached up to touch it. It felt calloused, warm, and touched her with a careful gentleness. She turned and smiled into it, she mumbled something unintelligible and hummed low. The hand stiffened and broke away.

The Inquisitor's eyes flew open, meeting Alistair's gaze. He was sitting on a barrel next to a cot where she was currently sleeping, with a warm wool blanket folded over her.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Alistair whispered and briefly made eye contact, then averted his eyes to the floor. The Grey Warden's eyes were bloodshot. He wore a clean shirt and had a blanket draped over his shoulders.

"Alistair." She sat up and reached out to him pulling him into a tight hug. He lifted himself off of the barrel to lean forward into the embrace. "It's good to see you awake." Gwen whispered into his ear. He held her gently and breathed deeply. Her chest tightened and she didn't want to let go.

He grunted in pain. "As much as I'm enjoying this... it hurts like hell." Immediately she released him and their bodies parted, settling again into their respective spaces.

Raising her hands to her mouth in embarrassment, she cried out an apology. "I am so sorry! It's just that the last time I saw you, you were laying on the table, barely breathing."

"Well, I feel better now. At least in part." His voice was raspy and he looked awful, but he managed to smile at her. "It's good to see you too."

Varric appeared, clean and sober from the far side of the room. "Don't let me interrupt anything, please." He winked suggestively at Gwen. "I'm just on my way out."

The Inquisitor sat up straight and a red hue painted her face. She stood up quickly. "AsIshouldbetoo! There's a lot of wooork--!" Gwen squeaked at the last word and was met with a chill as she stood, looking down at her bare legs. "Andraste's flaming ass! Who took my leggings off?!"

"Ah. That would be Solas. You had an arrow graze your leg and he didn't want it to get infected." Varric grinned and stared appreciatively at Gwen. She wore an over-sized cotton shirt that hung just at the tops of her thighs, nearly revealing her smallclothes. She quickly grabbed the blanket from the cot to cover them.

"You couldn't have mentioned this _before_ I stood to reveal my state of undress?" She yelled.

Varric shrugged, grinning.

"I think I need to have a few words with Solas." She seethed and walked toward a pile of clothing on the long table where Alistair laid the night before.

Varric sauntered over to Alistair, whispering, "Boy, you really got an eye-full, eh?" He nudged him. Alistair's eyes were still fixed on the spot where Gwen's backside had stood minutes ago.

"Mmhm." The Warden hummed. Varric just laughed loudly.

"Could you two stop lollygagging and help me find some blasted pants!" Gwen raged, then froze in place. Outside there was the sound of voices and movement.

"Dear Maker, I think they intend to come in here." Gwen looked at the men frantically.

With no luck finding clothes, she pulled the blanket tighter around her waist and walked to the door as Cassandra opened it. The Inquisitor's foot was placed firmly against it to stop it from opening more than a few inches.

"What the—" The Seeker cursed and peered through the crack in the door. "Oh. You're awake?" She said with surprise. "And Alistair?"

"He's awake too."

"Varric was supposed to come and get me _immediately_ when you woke _."_ Her tone was biting.

"It was only a few minutes ago, I'm sure he would have been on his way had he not stopped to ogle me."

Cassandra looked confused. "What are you saying, Inquisitor?"

Gwen spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm saying, Cassandra, that I am currently _indecent._ "

"Oh." She turned and ushered away the men who followed behind her.

Gwen turned to the dwarf. "You. Out!"

"Hey! What about him?" Varric replied, pointing to Alistair.

The Inquisitor huffed. "He's injured and should not be moving about. Otherwise he'd be out too."

"Fine, fine. He was ogling too, just so you know!" Varric walked out the door as Cassandra walked in.

Gwen shot Alistair a quizzical look, but his eyebrows raised innocently and he shook his head.

As Cassandra entered the room, along with another woman, she spoke, "Alistair, turn around."

He stood slowly and obeyed her command. The Seeker brought a long robe and placed it across Gwen's shoulders. She slid her arms into their place and tied the sash around her waist.

"Thank you."

Cassandra called out. "She's decent again, Warden." Alistair turned and gingerly took a seat in the large wooden chair, now facing the rest of the room. The pain on his face as he moved was unmistakable.

"I'll go get Solas." The Seeker turned to leave, then looked back as if forgetting something.

"Oh. Inquisitor, this is Emilie." She pointed to the woman. "Hawke arrived hours ago with a small group of soldiers from the North Gate camp who volunteered to help us here. There are now fourteen of us."

"That's wonderful news."

"That's not the _best_ news, though."

"No?"

"She is here to take you to the bath."

"Truly?" The Inquisitor gasped. Cassandra nodded. "Maker be praised. I am filthy." She laughed loudly and heard a similar eruption from behind her where the Warden sat.

"No dilly-dallying. I still haven't gotten one." The Seeker gave Gwen a firm look.

 

.

 

One of the towers of the keep had a stone tub in it, which had a drain leading to the outer wall. It was brilliant design, Gwen thought as she flowed her arms through the water and let it move around her. The bathtub was enormous. There was room for two other people at least.

True to her word, Gwen took a relatively short bath. She made sure to scrub every inch of herself with the vanilla soap that Emilie had given her. Twice, she reheated the water with a fire ward cast onto the stone tub floor, allowing it to soothe her sore muscles.

Gwen finished and stepped into the outstretched towel that Emilie held up.  She sighed deeply and contentedly. While she dried herself off and started toweling her hair, the girl laid out some clothes for her.

Another woman came in with a full bucket of hot water. She drained the tub in minutes and began filling it again with the hot fresh water.

Emilie pointed at the garments. "Your other clothes are being washed, so I've brought you some new armor, though it's only the soldier issued set, Herald. Not what you're used to I'm sure."

"Please, Emilie. Call me Gwen." As soon as her hair was rid of the excess water, she handed the towel to the waiting soldier. She slipped on a fresh pair of smalls and her breast band and turned to face the woman, braiding her brown hair into a long plait as she spoke. "If these clothes are worn by my soldiers, then I'm proud to wear them as well."

The soldier smiled warmly and exited the room, bowing as she did.

Gwen was surprised at how comfortable the soldier garb actually was. It was loose, warm, and it was lightly padded to protect every inch of her body. The last thing she did before leaving the room was slip her own pendant of Andraste back under her shirt. In a moment of recollection, she scooped up Alistair’s amulet which lay on the bed.

When she emerged from the bathing room, Alistair, who was next in line, stood to the side of the door and called out to her, mistaking her for one of her people by her garb.

"Soldier, just how long is _her worship,_ going to take? It's been nearly an hour and there are other people who'd like to—Oops." Gwen turned to face him, grinning at his mistake.

She walked up to him and apologized. "I'm sorry. It just felt so good. They're filling it back up now." She paused, thinking. " In fact, I'll do you a favor."

She dropped her pack and rushed into the room again where there were two soldiers taking turns carrying hot water from the fire to the room.

"Just bring it in cold."

They pumped the water into buckets and brought it in cold. Within minutes, the bath was filled and Alistair came in to see what the commotion was about.

"Gwen, It's _cold._ You're not going to make me take a cold bath… are you?" He put his hand on his chin and lifted an eyebrow. "Is this because I was ogling you earlier?"

"No." She rolled her eyes, stifling a chuckle. "Just wait and watch."

Gwen walked over to the cold tub of water, rolled up her sleeve and put a hand into it. Once submerged she readied her magic, to which Alistair jolted back, surprised. She cast another larger fire ward spell onto the base of the stone tub and soon it was steaming hot.

Alistair rolled his eyes when he walked past her, taking his shirt off. "Show off." She caught a glimpse of his side and abdomen, which was still bruised purple, but there was also a yellowing which meant his body was healing itself.

Her fist tightened around the amulet she held and she called out to the Warden. “Wait a moment.”

The man turned back around to her, confused. “What is it?”

Gwen trotted toward him and held out her hand, dropping the necklace into his when it hovered underneath hers. “I cleaned this for you when Solas was healing you. It was covered in blood.”

“Thank you.” A crease formed on his brow as he glanced down to the amulet in his hand. When the crease faded, he chuckled softly. “I’d hoped it was lying around here somewhere. I have a knack for losing it.”

The Inquisitor laughed and took a few steps backwards. “I should let you bathe.”

Lifting his eyes, he nodded a few times to her, stowing the amulet in his trouser pocket.

"Enjoy your bath." She called out as she shut the door behind her.


	9. Lessons

xXXXx

 

_13 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_  
_Caer Bronach: Personal Journal  
_

_Healed and bathed, I sit here eating a modest breakfast prepared by a gentle soul of a man named Bron. He's got to be near 60, but he wanted to join the Inquisition and help in any way that he could. Poor man lost his wife and daughter during the blight ten years ago and signed up with us when Harding brought the first soldiers a month ago. This man is as hardworking as they come, perhaps even more so than some of the younger recruits. He doesn't even mind being assigned as a cook!_

_As I spoke with him today while he prepared my meal. He gazed my way and this look filled his eyes, almost akin to admiration. A thought crossed my mind, and it's becoming clearer to me now that the Inquisition is more than just a name; we’re inspiring hope._

_Maker help me, I felt like such a hypocrite. I stood there trying to look proudly at this man's expression, when on the inside I felt burdened by the weight of his opinion._

_Am I to be admired? I feign this awesome confidence on the outside, but inside I’m having doubts just like any normal person._

_I can almost hear Leliana now: "That's because you are a normal person, silly. With a green glowing hand that closes fade rifts, of course."_

_I miss my friend and our time together. I just haven't the heart to write out another letter to her right now, knowing it won't reach her before my other missives get there. I'm also just too anxious for more help to come. I’m breaking my promise to myself… this cursed place is sapping my will._

_Varric's words hit me like an ice-bolt to the face. I'm glad he has confidence in my leadership and abilities, but I'm hurt that he thinks me so cold and pragmatic. I had reasons beyond their skills for bringing Cassandra, Solas, and Varric with me._

_We work well together, and I'm comfortable with them… and…_

_Oh dear… he is right._

_I need to start treating my companions as friends and start seeing them as more than just pieces in the grand game. I mean, I've already opened up to Alistair and I feel happier. Imagine the difference if I opened up to each of them. It's time to make friends… again._

_Back to business I suppose. We have more things to do around the fortress to make it ready for occupation and with so few, though dedicated and hardworking, the next days will b_ e busy.

 

...

 

"There you are." Full from breakfast, Gwen walked around a bend in the battlements and spotted the man responsible for bringing in the eight recruits from the Crestwood camps. He was leaning over the stone wall and turned abruptly as she called out to him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him plainly, coming to stand a few feet from him. She too looked out on the courtyard below where a few soldiers talked quietly while eating their morning meal.

"Tired and sore." He responded curtly.

Gwen drummed her fingers on the wall. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the air around Hawke. "Then you should rest. I just wanted to find you to thank you for your part, yesterday and today."

He gave her a quick, half-smile and turned again from her to look out to the courtyard below. "I only did what needed to be done."

"Is... everything alright? You seem upset. "

Hawke gave her a sardonic response. "What would ever give you the idea that everything wasn't alright?"

"Did I do something to upset you?"

“Yes,” he answered with brutal truth.

Raising her eyebrows, she continued, "Alright, let's clear the air then: tell me what is bothering you."

He leaned on the rail with his arms crossed and looked over to her. "If I said no, would you walk away and leave me alone?"

“Oh, probably not." She gave her best apologetic smile. "I know we barely know one another, but I'm trying to make an effort here. We both have common allies and enemies, so it makes sense that we too should maintain the semblance of an accord, right?"

"You have a point." Hawke mollified her, though his voice was still icy.

Gwen lifted her hands up and shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't have to be a long drawn out thing where, by the end of the conversation we're crying into one another's arms. Maker, no."

She laughed like a bumbling fool and caught him jeering at her menacingly, though he stood almost completely still. His actions or lack thereof were making her nervous. She’d never been alone with him before and she noticed for the first time that his presence was domineering. His bright blue eyes drilled into hers. Without the buffer of another person, he was downright intimidating.

Quickly, she recovered and kept her pace. "But we should talk before what’s bothering you escalates."

She eagerly awaited his reply, but he took his time, considering his words before finally speaking.

Hawke began quietly. "Alistair and I... are friends, and I don't have many left since... Kirkwall. He's a good man. When we began investigating Corypheus, we spent months making plans, researching, traveling together and in one day, you changed his mind and recruited him into the damned Inquisition."

Gwen just listened, slightly taken aback by his words, wondering why he hadn't brought this up earlier.

"He's lost sight of our own purposes to help the Wardens, find Corypheus and kill him... again." He looked away.

Gwen shook her head in confusion, using her Inquisitor voice to respond. "Our combined goal is to defeat Corypheus. We're both aligned to the same goal. It's absurd not to combine our efforts."

She looked over to him and his brows twisted, not with anger, but with sudden grief. Gwen was dumbfounded.

"He almost _died_ , Inquisitor." He finished the words in a biting tone.

Guilt sprang to her chest and tightened it. Her next words were spoken with care. “You care about him.”

The man refused to answer, and kept staring out over the keep.

“I'm sorry I never asked for your advice before and even more sorry that you were dragged into this without consent, but these are desperate times. The Inquisition needs all the good help it can get," she explained.

Hawke neither moved nor spoke.

"You don't think I feel awful about what happened to him?" Gwen's eyes were sullen and she was desperate for some response from the sober man.

"What else will you drag him into, what other sacrifices will he have to make for you and your Inquisition?" He responded sharply and turned toward her finally.

"I'm sorry, but I maintain that we need the two of you, even more so than before." Gwen still spoke with softness in her voice. "You're not going to leave us, are you?"

His voice was tired and pithy. "What choice do I have? I won't leave him here alone."

"I promise that we'll take no unnecessary risks with the two of you. You two saved our lives yesterday and it's a debt I intend to repay someday."

Gwen's eyes looked over to him expecting a response, but several minutes of uncomfortable silence went by again, with nothing from him. He stared out over the courtyard deep in thought, a dour expression on his face.

Instead of a verbal response, he started walking down the battlement away from her with eyes to the ground. He stopped as he passed her and ran his hands through his wild, dark hair and growled. "This isn't easy for me. I don't do well following anyone else's orders! I'm a loner or a leader."

“And when you’re with Alistair?”

“With him it’s … different.”

Gwen squinted her eyes, finding contradiction in his explanation.

Hawke looked up to find Gwen staring at him and he sighed roughly, "I hate this, and I promise nothing, but I'll try to be civil."

Gwen nodded slowly as he turned and kept walking briskly away.

 

.

 

A loud whistle resounded off the stone walls and brought everyone on the main level to attention. Cassandra nodded to her leader after finishing her call. Gwen hopped down the stairs and stood in the middle of the large open ward where everyone had been asked to assemble after breakfast. She called the people to gather and listen. Time to be Inquisitor again.

When everyone stood within earshot, she began. "Good morning everyone. I know we've barely had time to rest, but we're on a tight schedule and we need to prepare for the arrival of more Inquisition soldiers. Cassandra, how many would the Commander send?"

Cassandra was at Gwen's side post haste. "To hold Caer Bronach easily? Perhaps two troops, roughly 60 soldiers. But I can't be certain."

The Inquisitor pulled out her notebook, readying her quill and ink on a nearby table.  
In a bellow, she called out orders.

"So, we'll prepare for 80 more soldiers. We need to keep a constant watch: I'll get the details and a schedule up as soon as possible. Every room and hall needs to be cleaned. Bodies need to be burned. Resources collected and inventoried. Any damages to the keep should be noted for repair. I also want the lake drained, in fact, that should be the first order of business." She wrote as she spoke, nodding at her Seeker regarding the lake.

"Break into groups of two and come to me for your assignments. Thank you." Gwen moved to the table, taking a seat behind it as the first group of two came to her.

From across the ward, Alistair walked toward where she sat under a canopy at the small wooden table. It was neatly organized with her quill, ink and parchment. A few notebooks and a mug. A pair of soldiers were standing in front of him and Gwen had assigned them to clean the remaining towers of debris. When the pair walked away, the Inquisitor's eyes met the Warden's.

"I want to help."

"Where is your partner?" She spoke professionally.

He smirked. "Where's yours?"

Gwen tilted her head at him and looked him over in appraisal. He was clean and dressed in a simple dark blue cotton shirt, his grey leather breeches, and boots. He still had battle bruises and cuts but he looked one hundred times better than he did just a few hours’ prior: the wonders of a hot bath.

Her elbows were placed on the table and her hands rested neatly under her chin. "You should rest. I need you at your best in the days to come." Removing her elbows, she took a sip of water from the mug and began making notations in her notebook, thus giving Alistair a silent dismissal.

Alistair ignored her and gave a quiet groan. "Come on." He touched the table with his hand and Gwen's eyes lifted to his again, amusement etched on her face. "I hate feeling helpless. At least let me help you drain the lake. Or burn bodies? Something..."

She breathed out, blowing a stray hair away from her forehead. "Cassandra and I are leaving in a few minutes. You may join us. Just NO exerting yourself." She pointed at him.

He smiled and responded, turning away from the table slightly. "Of course."

“Wait.” Gwen caught his attention again, digging into her shoulder bag on the floor next to her.

“I have something for you… for your thoughts, actually. I found it in one of the storage rooms here. In the caves, you said liked my idea of keeping organized, so I thought... well, mine has served me well. I hope this one does the same for you.”

“A gift? And it isn’t even my Name Day.” He took the thick, handsome, leather bound journal with a grateful smile. Lowering his voice, he added, “Thank you, Gwen.”

The woman gave him a shy smile. “You’re welcome.”

.

Ivan, a burly, tall soldier accompanied Cassandra, Gwen, and Alistair through the keep. They proceeded through the door which led to a storehouse that was fully stocked with various types of ale, wine, and all sorts of food.

Gwen caught Alistair's wide-eyed expression as they made their way through and wondered if he would sneak off in the middle of the night to ravage the supply of cheese kept there.

Another door led them back outside. Cassandra met Gwen's eyes as they simultaneously saw a row of benches under a canopy against the keep, weapons propped up on them and a slurry of mud with deep footprints.

"This is where they were coming from during our onslaught." She knelt down, pointing. "Here: look at these weapons and the footprints.”

Following the mud-print-mess, they found a door, leading to one of the lower levels and Cassandra volunteered to investigate. Within moments, she emerged from the hallway with a pinched expression. “I found a barracks with a dozen bunks, across from a weapons storeroom. No wonder they seemed to have endless numbers: they very nearly did."

Gwen shook her head and looked over to her bruised Warden companion. "We would have done well with a little more information on this place."

Ivan interjected. "Been hard to find anything, if you don't mind me saying, Inquisitor. Couldn't get close without being shot at."

She turned to the tall man. "Don’t take my words for criticism of anyone but myself. You work very hard and take losses, I know that. I wouldn't have wanted you to get this close, in any case."

"Ma'am." He nodded.

"Let's keep moving." She rose, directing them over a few small hills in the path.

They crossed a bridge and finally came to a tavern, named 'The Rusty Horn'. It was in great disrepair with debris scattered around, but there was a light in one of the windows.

"Be ready." She warned, calling on her magic, and threw a barrier around them. "Alistair, stay behind me this time."

He nodded with a smile.

Cassandra slowly opened the door with Ivan a step behind her. There were muffled noises coming from further inside the tavern. With silent steps, they walked down the corridor until it opened into a great hall. The Seeker was the first into the room and her cry of surprise brought the other three in hastily. As Ivan, Gwen, and Alistair walked into the room they were greeted by a pair of lovers, on the floor, naked in a tangle of limbs.

At the intrusion of the Inquisitor and her companions, they pulled a blanket across their bodies.

“Ah, the grimy floor of a dilapidated tavern: romantic.” Alistair chuckled at them in slight disgust and walked by them without another glance.

Averting her eyes, Gwen moved passed them as well, deferring to the Seeker. "Dear Maker… Cassandra, you can take care of this, right?" She shook her head and made a quick escape to another door at the far end of the room.

Ivan's face reddened, yet his eyes never moved from the couple's prone forms.

"Uh... I suppose." The reluctant Seeker began to speak with the couple, albeit awkwardly.

"Good, let's get to these dam controls." At her own words, Gwen allowed a small grin appear on her lips as she looked over to Alistair. He too was smiling and shaking his head.

"Good one, Inquisitor." He murmured and walked past her to open the door.

Inside there was a hand-wheel controlling the dam and oddly, it was still intact. The mayor of the village had told them that darkspawn had flooded the lake by breaking the controls. Gwen thought again about Varric's uneasiness towards the man.

"Remind me to speak with Varric about the Mayor."

Alistair nodded and turned to walk around the room, picking up empty bottles to examine them.

"Ivan! Would you come and help me with this crank?" Gwen called out and he came walking swiftly into the back room to find the Inquisitor pressing forcefully but fruitlessly on the wheel.

Pushing together, they got the thing to move, but had to call Cassandra in for more strength. Alistair kept asking if he should help, and every time a flurry of ‘no's’ would send him retreating to the back of the small room. In the end they enlisted the help of the young gentleman lover, after he put his clothes back on.

In a final push, the massive chains pulled the gates open and the water flowed with a loud rush into the reservoir behind them. They walked out of the tavern together and began to hike the path back to the keep.

Gwen paused at the bridge and peered out to the landscape with a sigh. The light from the rift illuminated the clouds over the lake in a sick green wash. The waters kept rushing behind her, the noise numbing her sense of hearing.

A hand touched her on the shoulder and she reached up to touch it, turning her head to find Alistair there, his brow fraught with worry.

Gwen exhaled a wry laugh. "Just, look at it. And we're stuck here, waiting."

"We'll get to it."

Gwen gave him a weak smile. “Waiting makes me irksome.”

"Lucky you; I know something about that.”

Winking, he continued. “Come. Walk with me to the keep, have lunch, and I’ll tell you all my secret ways of combating it." He held up his hand and in his grip was a bottle of wine, which he jostled lightly.

She laughed at the grin spreading across his face. "Alright. Not too much though. There's still a lot of work to do and you need to heal up."

"Of course." He smirked and huffed out a chuckle.

"What?"

"You're just… more professional today than yesterday."

"I am the Inquisitor, you know. These people look to me for guidance. Does it bother you?"

"No, not at all." His smirk turned into a wide smile. "You skin wolves. You lead the Inquisition. You aren't afraid to do the grunt work and take charge when you have to. Should I ever take command of anything, Maker help us," he laughed, "that's the kind of leader I'd like to be."

They started to walking towards the keep. "Your words, they've cheered me up a little. Thank you, Alistair."

He smiled again and they ambled up the path together, enjoying the chance at another small but private momentary diversion.

 

.

 

That night, two archers and their leader, stood guard on the battlements. They walked around the keep and picked off any unlucky bandit scouts who tried to return to Caer Bronach, ignorant of its current residents. Gwen felt pride that her small force was able to keep the enemy at bay, and hoped they'd be able to do so until her troops arrived.

When the night became quiet, she decided to do a little exploring, telling the other soldiers that she'd be back within a reasonable amount of time. In those twilight hours, she went searching.

Gwen first noticed the candlelight flickering in a window above her, and made her way to its source. She wasn't surprised to find that it was Solas who was still awake with a new-found tome in his lap. As she walked in, he lifted his head from its place in his hand and he stared at her, unmoved.

The place he had chosen for his quarters must have been a chapel of some sort and it overlooked the fields to the southeast. There was no door, only an open archway with a carved leaf motif around it. There were tall, small-paned, glass windows on the three walls surrounding him and he sat on a step in front of a stone altar. He lit a dozen candles to give himself enough light to read and he looked almost like a statue sitting in the center of the room, candle-light flickering across his stone features.

"Greetings, Inquisitor."

"Solas."

"It's quite late." He paused and cocked his head. "Has something happened? Alistair—?" He made to rise.

"No, stay. Everything is fine." Gwen gave him a modest smile and leaned against the arch. "I was just exploring the keep a bit and walking the battlements when I saw your light. I'm glad I found you."

"Indeed?"

She sighed a response, moving forward into the room. "I hate the way we left things before the siege."

He nodded back. "I am sorry that my words that night offended you. I only meant it as a warning. Though, I can see now that the Grey Warden poses you no threat. Without him, I'm not sure we would have survived the siege. For that, I am grateful."

"Apology accepted." Gwen felt relieved and thought on his other warning about desire versus duty, but before she could ask, he responded with a smile.

"I admit, I have missed our talks."

The corners of Gwen's mouth began to turn up into a smile and she responded, "As have I."

"Since you're here, we could perform our usual ritual. Would you like me to reiterate the events of the day so that you may compare notes from your codex?" Solas gestured to her pack which was slung over one shoulder.

She gave him a painful expression. "When you phrase it like that, it sounds so… dreadful." Gwen rubbed her temples.

"Not at all." Solas smiled at her. "It kept you on task, as I remember you saying more than once. I was happy to help."

"I did appreciate it, of course. I simply realize now that I was your leader even when we casually conversed in the night. I'm sorry I was so diplomatic."

The elf shook his head, dismissing her apology.

The Inquisitor found his eyes, "Solas… do you consider us… friends?"

His brow creased at her words and his head tilted. "Yes, I believe I do."

"Truly? Even though I've barely considered you as such, or looked at you more than an incredible mage and healer and an asset to our team?" She rambled on, looking down to her hands as she spoke and meeting his gaze at the last word.

"Even so." He breathed out a laugh and his eyes smiled at her. "I always knew that you were grateful for my addition to the group. You knew well how the pieces fit together and I trusted your judgement on the matter. And you respected me, that was enough."

"I can understand that, thank you." Her lips came to a firm line and she nodded.

Gwen looked at the walls in the small chapel: the shadows of the elf's body moved as a small gust of wind blew into the room and agitated the candlelight. "If I were to talk with you about matters other than official things related to the Inquisition, would you listen? And if you would, do you think that those things we would speak of would change your opinion of me?"

He again considered her rambling and answered. "I would listen, and it is not within me to judge." He deftly pulled a blanket out of his pack and laid it down next to him. Then he lay his hand on it, signaling her to join him. "What troubles you, falon?"

Gwen walked over to him slowly and dropped her pack. She positioned herself on the blanket so that she held her knees loosely. "Waiting troubles me, I suppose. I want to get to that Fade rift, close it, and get moving onward with our mission. But, we have to wait now. I wonder if we did the right thing and was the cost of Alistair's injury worth it?"

Solas breathed out deeply, "It does no good to dwell on the past, falon. We did what we could, given the resources we had, and don't forget: we prevailed. Regrets have no part in this life you live."

"I try to remember that, but sometimes it's difficult to master your own doubts, you know?"

"I do." He turned away from her abruptly, as if hiding his expression.

She continued, "What do you think I should do?"

"Stay the course." His face still turned away from her.

Solas turned his head toward her again. "You have made this decision and though it may seem wrong, from a certain perspective, the best you can do is have confidence and keep on this path. Deviating may cause you to lose not only your beloved people, but your reputation as a steadfast leader."

As he finished his words, he again turned to gaze out the window, a somber expression coming to his face.

Sensing his discomfort, Gwen spoke, "I should leave you to your reading. Thank you for talking with me."

"Wait." Solas turned to face her and closed his book with a soft snap. He looked at her with imploring eyes. "You said you missed our training sessions. If you're open to a little tutelage now, I could use a distraction." A small smile lay upon his lips.

"Now?"

"Why not? We will not be interrupted and you said yourself that you wanted to learn more of the healing arts."

"Oh. Yes! I do." Gwen sat up straighter, dropping her knees to sit cross-legged.

"Then let's begin." His smile faded and he took her hands in his, lifting her to stand. He stood close in front of her, his hands moving down her body in a slow and steady movement, hovering but not touching her.

Gwen froze in place, unsure of what the actions meant.

The elf started his explanation, still hovering his hands over her midsection. "For healing internal injuries, you must see inside the body. You must visualize the bones, muscles, tendons, organs, and flesh."

She relaxed and became intrigued. "How is it done? Is there some kind of spell that allows us to see into the body?"

Solas shook his head. "Nothing so complex. It is simply knowledge of the body, and of course its elements, which you have already learned. With your permission, I'd like to demonstrate what I mean."

Gwen nodded, slowly.

“First, remember the foundations of healing: restoring the flesh with healthy components gleaned from other places in the body.”

“And have the patient replenish their stores immediately after healing.”

“Precisely.” A look of pride overtook him briefly. “Now with internal wounds, you apply the foundation of replacing elements with knowledge of the body’s internal structures.”

Solas rolled his sleeve up revealing an apple-sized bruise. He reached for her gloved hands and gently pulled at her fingertips, removing the garments gracefully and dropping them to the ground where she had been seated. He lay her hands lightly upon his warm flesh where the bruising occurred. "You must focus on the damage. The flesh beneath the skin is bruised. Feel my arm. Feel for irregularities."

"How am I supposed to know what the irregularities feel like if I've never touched your healthy skin before." She said, blushing.

Solas' lips pressed together in a flat line and he lifted an eyebrow at her. “Well— by your admission, you've determined what the first part of tonight's lesson is to be then: compare." He rolled up his other sleeve where no bruising occurred and deftly moved her left hand from the injured arm to the healthy one.

Gwen stood feeling the flesh of his two arms when her mind wandered. She thought that if anyone were to come upon them embracing, things might look evocative. Shaking the thought from her head, she tried to concentrate.

"Falon, focus. What do you feel?"

She rubbed her hand gently over his healthy skin. "This area feels smooth and cool."

"What do you see?"

Gwen pulled his arm closer. "The skin is clear, smooth and unblemished."

Shaking his right arm, he spoke. "This arm represents the healthy body. Now, look at the other."

She looked down to his bruised arm. The area was swollen slightly and a large purple blotch with yellowing edges was there. She pressed a little harder, feeling the swollen flesh underneath the skin and he winced in pain.

"Now, close your eyes while touching." He spoke softly.

Gwen did as her teacher instructed, closing her eyes firmly and feeling the bruised flesh, then the healthy flesh. She felt the heat from the wounded arm, the irritation, the burst veins and free moving blood. His heart pumped loudly and she readied her magic to contract, cool, and repair, taking the resources from stores within the body that she knew she could take from. She gently let her fingers release its magic upon her elven companion.

Solas took a deep breath as the wave of healing washed over him. "Perfect." He said finally on his exhale.

Gwen opened her eyes to see two healthy bruise-free arms in her grasp. She grinned widely. “You’d better eat some meat now.”

"You're an apt pupil. Though what I did for Alistair was quite complex." Solas sat again and dug in his pack for something.

"Here. This is an anatomy book. I keep it with me in case I need to refresh myself. I used it extensively with Alistair. You would do well to study it."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

She sat next to him as he brought out a few pieces of jerky, flipping through the pages of the book quickly. "Oh. Oh my goodness… childbirth?"

"Ah, yes." He chuckled lightly. "There are illustrations."

She closed the book. "I'd better read this when no one is around to see me blush." Gwen laughed at herself and stood to leave, but her bare, glowing hand caught her eye and she turned it over to examine the slit of green light.

She turned to the elf and held out her palm. "Solas?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think that this could do more than simply close rifts? Do you think it holds other powers?"

He studied her face intently then picked up her hand, brushing his fingers over the mark. "Without experimentation, I cannot say. Have you noticed new abilities or side effects?"

Gwen pulled her hand back and began to replace her gloves. "Alistair mentioned something about sleeping better when I was near. I've kept the damn thing mostly covered since then, I'd forgot about it until just now.”

Solas chuckled and stifled a yawn. "I suppose since your mark connects you directly to the Fade, being near you while sleeping could somehow deepen a person's sleep. I will look into it if you wish."

"If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course, falon."

"That word you keep using, what does it mean?"

"It means friend, as you were so kind to point out that we have become." He smiled at her.

She turned to leave, then pivoted back to him, a droll look on her face. "Oh, one more thing before I depart."

"Yes?"

"Next time I'm wounded, you have my permission to cut off the offending material below the wound, leaving my modesty intact."

Solas blinked slowly, a small smile growing on his face. "Ah, yes I heard… my apologies. I had no idea that you would be so exposed upon your waking. Forgive me."

"You're forgiven." With that she bowed her head, smiling back at him. "Sleep well, Solas." Gwen turned from his room, walked out into the hazy moonlight, and back to strolling the battlements for the next couple hours.

"And you as well, Falon." He whispered.


	10. High Anxiety

xXXXx

 

Things were faring well at Caer Bronach. The tasks that Gwen assigned the groups were all but finished and the soldiers doubled up on watches to keep busy. Many roamed the countryside, within sight of the keep, to help with the undead or to hunt and gather food.

Though they set up several tents in expectation of new arrivals, most of the sleeping and other downtime was spent in the fortress’s interior rooms, away from the rain. Since the work was nearing completion, Gwen assigned a full-time cook and allowed anyone to have a hot bath if they needed it.

Despite those achievements, her close companions were getting anxious. They'd been camped for almost three days since the siege, and there were daily arguments about whether waiting was the right course of action, the main antagonist being Hawke. Cassandra and Varric were at each other's throats, bickering constantly. Solas kept to the task of training his pupil, healing his ward, and watched silently as his companions' usually pleasant interactions devolved into near brawls. Alistair slept and ate, and ate more, and continued to heal, growing stronger as the hours passed.

Through it all, Gwen tried to keep the peace, but her perseverance and patience had started to waver. Tensions were high.

 

…

 

_15 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Caer Bronach_

_Personal Journal_

 

_I can hear two angry voices right now as I'm trying to peacefully eat my breakfast with Alistair; they are arguing over something idiotic, like… who gets to do today's inventory in the stockroom._

_Alistair says they need to just find a room and get it over with. Though crude, I think he might be onto something…_

_Tasks for today:_

_-Healing practice_

_-Inventory and send soldier to the village for supplies_

_-Avoid Hawke...  
_

_Alistair and I seem to have settled into a lovely schedule of eating meals together and taking walks along the battlements, when time allows._

_So far, I've learned more about his personality: he's a strong, proud man, with a big heart. His rough edge has been worn down a little to reveal a caring, empathetic, and sensitive person._

_My feelings toward him are... the same. I like him more with each passing day and I wonder… could our friendship be more someday? If it could, am I even ready for it?_

_I'm watching him now, eating his eggs and potatoes… scraping the plate to finish every last morsel on his plate. Catching my eye with those kind and intense eyes..._

_Dear Maker. I need more work, it seems. Where was I? Oh, yes, Alistair and our growing bond._

_Sometimes when we're together, I try to ascertain if he feels anything for me beyond our camaraderie. He seems softer with me than say, Cassandra, but it is difficult to tell because he still holds up his walls, even when we're alone. I think he still feels like he's got to be this powerful presence, representing the Grey Wardens, but I respect him and his character already._

_Despite my criticism, I can relate. I try to be strong for my people, show them that I'm a capable leader, but I also want to show them that I'm a normal person just like they are._

_Sometimes I do find them looking at me when I'm scrubbing the floor here and their jaws just drop. Why can't the Inquisitor wash the bathing room floor? With our small group of soldiers, we all need to do the work. They're just not used to seeing me doing more than sitting behind a desk or giving orders._

_Dear Maker, here I am rambling to myself again… on parchment, no less-_

 

…

 

A snap of fingers brought her eyes up from her journal to the warm, brown eyes belonging to the Grey Warden that sat next to her, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"You really focus when you're writing, don't you?" He pointed a thumb towards two of their companions in the midst of a heated debate. "They're about to tear each apart. I think you'd better intervene, _Inquisitor_."

Gwen rose immediately from her seat. "Maker's breath." She shook her head.

Varric and Cassandra were in the middle of the ward now, taking turns at spewing angry words to one another, inching closer and closer with each hate-filled word. The Inquisitor strode into their space and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for them to realize she was there and stop.

The dwarf was the first to catch sight of his superior and turned his head abruptly to the side. Cassandra's words trailed off until she too turned her head. Her face was flush with anger and her fists were balled at her sides.

"What is going on here? The two of you look like fools, arguing about inventory and… I couldn't quite make out—"

"Weapon and armor repair." Varric cut her off, through gritted teeth. "Like I told _her,_ just because I'm a dwarf doesn't mean I know anything about blacksmithing." He jerked his head back to Cassandra. "You would have thought she'd have retained that much during her lengthy _interrogation_ in Kirkwall."

"That is unfair! You always bring that up. It is over and done. Can't you let it go?" She held her fists out in front of her, shaking them at him.

Varric's voice boomed out. "Seeker, you bound me and forced me at sword point to give you Hawke's whereabouts. Pardon me if I'm still a little sore about it." He rolled his eyes at Cassandra who huffed at him.

Cassandra dropped her hands to her sides, fists released. She then sighed and responded tersely and quietly, "I... apologize for harassing you, but I was desperate." She looked at Varric, her pleading eyes betraying her hard stance and raised head.

The dwarf raised his eyebrow at her, taking every inch he could get, and asked, "Does the apology mean you'll let me inventory the storerooms instead of doing the repair work?"

"Absolutely not! I don't trust you with the inventory." Cassandra responded. "You'll fix the armor; I'll do the inventory."

"Gah! I thought we were gaining some ground there, Seeker. Unless I’m holding a quill, or Bianca, I’m all thumbs. I'm not fixing anything; you can get that out of your head right now."

"Well, I'm not allowing you into the storerooms alone," she quipped.

"I'm not going to _steal_ anything!"

A cacophonous jumble of word-noises began rising ever louder through the courtyard and heads turned toward the couple making the ruckus.

Gwen shook her head and lay it to rest in her hand. "Goodness gracious, stop it you two!" She bellowed in her Inquisitor voice.

They halted and turned toward her and she began her own tirade.

"Get over yourselves! Everyone is doing jobs they aren't suited for! I was scrubbing the floors this morning! Do you really think that I did the job because I'm accustomed to being on my hands and knees?"

She winced at her own words and turned squarely toward a snickering Varric. "DON'T answer that question."

She continued, "Now, since neither one of you can come to an agreement on these duties, _both_ of you will be finishing up those tasks _together_." Before either party could retort, she added, "And you'll do it with smiles on your faces and voices that can only be heard between the two of you... Or else."

Cassandra was the first to respond and she began pleading with Gwen. "Inquisitor, please. Give me someone else, give me _anyone_ else... I'll even take Alistair!"

From a few yards away, the Warden called out, "He-ey! I'm right here, you know."

Gwen crossed her arms again. "No."

She exhaled loudly and began again, this time speaking so that only the three of them could hear. "I need you two to bury whatever this is between you and _move on_."

She turned to Varric. "You told me two days ago that I need to become more involved with you all. Well, here I am." Gwen brought each hand to rest on her companion's shoulders.

"As your leader and your _friend,_ I ask you to keep the peace."

She looked to Varric, "Cassandra apologized for her mistreatment of you; you need to forgive her." She then turned her head toward the Seeker. "Cassandra, you need to trust Varric. You trust him in battle, right? Then believe his word that he isn't going to tamper with our inventory."

She squeezed their shoulders in a firm embrace. "I can see the damage this fighting is causing both of you. You're on edge and exasperated. I need you to be at peak performance when we leave here and continue on our journey."

As Gwen released them, she looked back and forth between them, her eyes urging them to make amends. "Please?"

The Seeker nodded, albeit unenthusiastically.

Varric, stood again with crossed arms and eyed both of the women cautiously. "I can do it if she can," he sighed, dropping his arms to his sides.

Gwen dropped her hands to her sides again. "Good. Now off with you both. And if I hear so much as an elevated tone from either one of your voices, you'll be cleaning the latrines." She gave a forced, gleeful smile and walked away.

 

.

 

Barely hours after her encounter with Varric and Cassandra, she was in her office collecting her notes on the few books which were found at Caer Bronach and filing last night's scout report into her large pile of correspondences to go to Skyhold. The room she now occupied was small, but dry. That was of utmost importance when she had to be writing multiple reports from a location where there was more rain than sun. The Inquisition, Josephine in particular, would not stand for water droplets on the official reports. On a silent rampage, she tried to find her notes in the piles of papers adorning her desk.

A single loud knock jarred her silence and was followed by the door opening forcibly, revealing a glum Hawke. The door had scarcely shut when he started on her. She sat down with a harumph.

"Inquisitor, we need to leave Caer Bronach and get on with this damn mission."

"No. We can't." Gwen said calmly, idly organizing her small pile of correspondences from the desk where she sat.

"No?" His tone curled up at the end of the word. Hawke stood at the opposite end placing his hands wide across the desk.

She sighed, exhausted and looked up to him. "You heard me. We're not moving until we receive those reinforcements."

"But, how can you be sure that your Spymaster even got the message?" Hawke said disbelieving.

"We just have to have faith that the bird made it."

He rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his frustration. "You're forcing us to wait here, for Maker knows how long, while that _thing_ in the lake keeps spitting out its walking dead?! Your people are fighting amongst themselves. Your people are _bored._ What more proof do you need that it's time to move on?!"

The Inquisitor shook her head.

He walked away, then turned on his heel facing her again, spitting out his words. "You are unbelievable."

Gwen looked up at his agitated visage and something within her snapped. Anger hit her and she rose, kicking the chair back into the wall. "I will not leave this fortress to be defended by a handful of recruits! It isn't right, it isn't safe. There are still bandits out there, if you haven’t noticed! We could lose these people; we could lose the whole damn fortress all over again! I'm just not ready to take the chance!"

She paused, walking around her desk with her head in her hand and yelled at him again. "And what happened to trying to be civil?!"

Hawke growled. "I didn't realize I'd have to be _civil_ for three damn days. It's impossible to just _wait_ here! We need to do... something!"

Gwen calmed herself down, her voice raspy from yelling. "I'm sorry, my answer is still no. I can't know the consequences if we just up and leave. I must stay the course. We _must_ wait. Can't you understand that?"

"No I _can't_ understand that, and neither can I understand how made _you_ the Inquisitor." He huffed, aiming low with his insults, turning to leave.

"Excuse me?" Gwen's jaw dropped at his comment.

He retreated, walking to the door and placing his fingers on the handle ready to pull it. Then Hawke turned to face her and stared at her with a deeply furrowed brow, speaking in a nearly inaudible voice. "They hired a child: faltering and incompetent! They should've hired someone who could actually _make_ a decent decision, even a sacrifice once in a while. You just don’t have what it tak—"

The Inquisitor's eyes darkened and she strode to where he stood, pointing her finger at him with each disparaging word. "Don't. Even. Go. There. I know what you did in Kirkwall. What sacrifice you felt you _had_ to make in order to have _justice_ be served. The mage… he was your friend, right? I suppose I should have thought about what you are capable of before I extended my hand to you."

Gwen continued, irrational and upset. "Yet, you surprise me. Two mornings ago you lectured me about putting Alistair in harm's way and now you're ready to possibly throw away soldiers and an entire fortress because you think their sacrifice is worth another few days’ head start? Why the sudden change of heart?"

He turned away from her while visibly fuming and began to open the door, but she threw her palm against it, forcing it shut as she berated him further. "Perhaps _lowly_ Inquisition soldiers don't mean anything to you, but they do to me. Are their lives expendable to you? Do you want their blood on your hands too?!”

Hawke was seething with rage. His face was red with anger and his eyes wild. She'd hit a nerve and she knew it. She called him a hypocrite and a murderer and he wasn't willing to have his past spilled out into the small room that they occupied. So, he pushed past her, choosing to stomp out the door, slamming it behind him with all his might.

Gwen walked slowly back to her desk and sat down, her eyes wide and tired. She tried to focus on her reports, she even pulled her journal out again, but she just couldn't find the smooth thread of thought that usually hung about in her mind. It was frayed and frazzled now, and there was no way she was getting it under control until she rested, relaxed, and calmed herself down.

"So much for hiding from my angry companions." Gwen placed her forearms wide on the desk and let her head fall between them with a dull thud.

 

.

 

From one of the high tower halls, she leaned with arms hanging over the rail, looking westward to the newly drained lake and the dead village below. At least the last three days dried the muck into a semblance of walkable earth.

Still, the sky darkened again on the eve of the third day and Gwen was feeling despondent.

She was so focused on the lake and her own thoughts that she didn't hear Alistair padding toward her with soft footsteps against the stone floor. When he leaned down to mimic her stance she gasped in alarm, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You scared the breath out of me." She spoke with a startle in her voice.

"I'm sorry." He looked into her eyes, seeing her despair. "Cassandra is looking for—are you alright?"

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm fine." She said quietly, hoping in vain to satisfy his curiosity.

"Shouldn't you be on watch?" Gwen peeked over at him warily.

"Probably, but I wanted to find you first. Cassandra wanted to speak with you." He looked out at the lake. "And you're not fine, I know there's something wrong."

"Look, I appreciate you finding me. Tell her that I'll be down to the campfire soon." With that she rose and tried to walk away past him to find another secluded nook to crawl into for a few minutes, but he held her arm.

When she faced him, his eyes were so penetrating and his brow so furrowed, that she resisted the urge to run away. She lost herself in his appraisal of her and hung her shoulders in a moment of weakness.

"If you need to talk to someone," Alistair's eyes softened, "You can talk to _me._ "

She turned away again, pulling her arm from his grasp and slamming her fist into the parapet. "I need those troops to arrive! That's what I need... Eight people isn't enough to hold Caer Bronach while we seal that rift in the caves." Gwen flailed her arm out at the green light shining from the rocky waters beyond the old village. Disgusted with herself, she raged, "We're wasting time!"

The Warden leaned onto the wall and offered her a small smile, "You're not being fair to yourself. Someone has to make the decisions, right or wrong."

"I feel helpless and frustrated." She sighed and gripped the stone wall tightly. "I haven't felt this way since, well," she dropped her voice and looked at down at her white knuckles, "since Haven fell.”

Gwen dropped her head to her chest. “Maker’s breath, that was barely a month ago. Am I truly that feeble?"

“No, having this responsibility is stressful. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Alistair rose and came closer to her, placing a hand of sympathy upon her slumped shoulder, his thumb moving softly over the crest. "I'm sorry, but you don’t have endure this alone."

Ignoring his comforting tone, her words spilled out in exasperation. "Haven was my fault too. Perhaps if I'd allied with the Templars or done _something_ different _,_ I'd have been able to save more lives." Gwen leaned forward out of his grasp and as her palms found her eyes, she dropped her head into them.

Understanding her want for space, the Warden stepped back and leaned against the parapet, listening to her pour out her thoughts and feelings. Alistair got the distinct impression that she'd seldom spoken to anyone about these events in her new life.

"Everything went so well the first couple months. Yes, we were newly born and getting to know one another, but everything flowed smoothly. The Hinterlands wasn’t so bad, and Haven felt like… a home.” She turned away from the landscape and put her back to the stone, sliding down to sit on the cold, hard floor. Akin to a child, she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Dipping her head to her forearms, she spoke again. "And after being thrown into that ghastly future in Redcliffe, I wasn't prepared for yet another disaster. I just thought we'd be alright. That everything would go smoothly again."

"Then Haven fell. Now I fear that this situation is going to devolve into another great mishap somehow. If Corypheus knew I was here, under-staffed and lame, he could strike at us and destroy everything we've worked so hard to build." At the last, she looked over to Alistair, who dropped to sit next to her on the ground as she released her concerns upon him.

An expectant look crossed her face as she waited for some kind of response from him. "Gwen, I believe we're going to be fine. I've been through rough spells too, one right after another, just like you. I succeeded, and you will too." He offered a smile to her. "Your confidence is waning and it shouldn’t be. You’re doing your best. What happened to that focused, fearless woman I met in the cave almost a week ago?"

Turning her face him, she answered, " _Hawke_ happened. Cassandra and Varric happened. I feel like Solas and you are the only ones who truly trust my decision. Everyone else is upset with me and it's manifesting in different ways. I haven't even had a decent conversation with Cassandra since before meeting you, and she's usually my rock." She trailed off and found a piece of rubble near her foot to fumble with.

Facing away from him, she continued, "There’s more: when you were still unconscious, Varric, he was drunk and he said some things… about _me_ … I don't really want to go into it, but he told me that I need to start opening up."

In a sympathetic, yet chastising voice, Alistair responded, "He’s right."

With a swift turn of her head, she looked at him, surprised at his honesty.

Alistair kept going. "Look at you. Everything is bottled up. Have you _ever_ talked to anyone else about your troubles? You have a couple drawbacks and you're starting to fall to pieces on the inside. Believe me, if I didn’t have a confidante during the Blight or the years after, I’d be a basketcase now and no use to you whatsoever." He grinned at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the young woman beside him only frowned.

As frustration rose again, she became defensive and groaned. "It isn't like I've been actively trying to alienate myself! I'm trying to lead an entire organization while treading across all of Thedas fixing the holes in the sky created by that inhuman _monster_ ! Not exactly the best time to be cultivating relationships! They should have _never_ made me Inquisitor... I wasn’t ready." She stood quickly and began to pace about.

Alistair rose swiftly to calm her and opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off.

"EVERYTHING I had before that explosion was gone in one moment and I was shoved into this position with little choice in the matter. I'm doing the best I can, damn it!" She fumed, her voice elevating and her breath becoming erratic.

After a few moments of staring at her with remorse in his eyes, he spoke at last. “You’ve—reminded me of Mihna.”

Exasperated, she breathed out in response. “What?”

The man dropped his eyes to the ground and shook his head. “She never wanted the mantle of command. It... it was my fault that the burden was laid on her. We were branded traitors and had just escaped from Ostagar. I was the Senior Grey Warden, but I told her that bad things would happen if I took the lead and made some piss-poor joke about losing my pants or something.”

Gwen stood, her face still pinched in anger. “Why?”

His honey-brown eyes rose to meet hers with a dark intensity. “I was a stupid boy who was drowning in grief over the death of a friend and I was terrified.”

A moment later Gwen's face softened. "Oh, Alistair.”

He drew closer to her, touching her shoulders hesitantly. “I've seen your skill as a mage firsthand, and a bit of your cunning on and off the battlefield. You have an eye for gathering useful allies to aid your cause. I know you can be the Inquisitor. No, you _are_ the Inquisitor.”

Unthinking, Gwen leaned into his embrace, lost in his words and consumed by his eyes. He accepted her action by pulling her into a tender hug. Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and her arms met one another behind his back, squeezing tightly. Laying her head on him, she heard his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Sighing peacefully, she felt part of her stress lift from her shoulders.

Words came softly from her lips when she loosened her grip and stood in front of him, gazing into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Alistair cleared his throat, and his eyes dipped to her lips and before he met her sage-green eyes again.

Rocking toward him, she smiled timidly, heat rising to her cheeks at his appraisal. Her heart beat heavily and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears.

With a deep breath, Alistair took a decisive step back, speaking quietly with the movement. “Come along. Cassandra will be wait—”

The Grey Warden was cut off, but not by his counterpart. In a flash of movement, a black bird flew low and landed between them on the parapet. Gwen's eyes sought Alistair's who mirrored her own hopeful, wide-eyed expression. She turned, held her hand out and the bird walked over to her, allowing her to untie the small pouch that it had tied to its leg. Once the package was in hand, the bird walked away and flew down to the old village below.

"Well… open it!" Alistair cried.

"I can barely hold it. Here." She reached a jittery hand out to him and he took the missive.

The Warden pinched the sleeve open and slid the message out into his hand, rotating it again and again. He squinted at it. "The lettering is quite small, and it's well… gibberish? I can't read it," he said exasperated, handing the precious missive to his companion.

She snatched it from his hands. "It's in code, you goof. Damn, I need the cipher though. Let's move!" Gwen pulled Alistair by the arm and they jogged down to the main ward where other occupants of the keep were resting for the evening.

Out of breath, they ran up to Cassandra, who was seated by the fire, eating dinner. Gwen spoke, "We were… up on the high tower... just got a message by crow! Meet me... in the office so we can decode it."

"Of course!" Cassandra dropped her plate to the ground and went to find the young woman.

Before Gwen ran to her office, she cast a gloating smile at the tall dark haired man who sat next to his dwarven friend by the fire. Hawke returned her gaze with a narrow glare and shook his head.

The Inquisitor called out as she moved to the interior room. “Varric, _Hawke,_ I need you two, as well. Come on."

"Right away, Inquisitor." Varric belted out, grabbing his surly companion's arm and pulling the reluctant man into the office with the others.

 

.

 

_[13 Ehrnl 41 Lmdowq_

_Irugpke_

_L_

_Bdmkz plni opounqf, N vbi enwldb gz rnw qernze xgr badrbae f vleielb kmpo wrs nq Btdeznwrb. Bwv N guwn xgem wri'ya cffq sr mp, btlzao kumt! Zdfnqf b gmtmtdaa ni e mtdtaubrni labm lpt pla Squsninmswb. Czdammbso zptg!_

_Yc lbe mefli ns olc gpdyi ltggtvnbo wrdy taaabfa bub fcza fbpldtae bie ubsr zrnt mtppri ektabku. Cztcep plat dw isqilz nq 3 ebzu._

_HZ]_

 

… _decoded…_

_13 Cloud 41 Dragon_

_Skyhold_

_G_

_Early this morning, I was awoken by two scouts who decoded a message from you in Crestwood. Now I know what you've been up to, clever girl! Taking a fortress is a tremendous feat for the Inquisition. Excellent work!_

_We had talks in the hours following your message and have gathered and sent your troops already. Expect them by sunset in 3 days._

_L_

 

.

 

_15 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Caer Bronach_

_Personal Journal_

 

_The reinforcements are finally coming! Tomorrow!_

_Hours ago we all met, deciphered the message, and set to work immediately thereafter. I'm so relieved and that's an understatement. I have a few soldiers collecting supplies for us and readying our packs. As soon as the troops arrive, we're off._

_As much as I wanted to take Leliana's missive and wave it wildly in front of Hawke's face, I restrained myself. There's too much at stake to let grudges take us over. He seemed docile enough, perhaps I'll apologize to him before we go. I don't know how much longer I could have taken this stagnation and uncertainty; I can't blame him for feeling the same._

_I feel I ought to say something about my outburst in front of Alistair on the ramparts. He diffused me, coached me, lifted my spirits, and it was absolutely wonderful. I feel refreshed both from his words and the news of our soldiers on the way. There was an embrace, and possibly something more?_

_I might be grasping at straws, but it really doesn’t matter because I feel so very rejuvenated._

_I just want to fall asleep with the bliss of knowing that I made a choice and stayed the course and that we're going to be off again shortly. Thank the Maker._


	11. Still Waters Run Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do a few chapters here and there with fragments from Alistair’s perspective. This is the first of them and his PoV is about ¾ of the way through this chapter under the heading: oOOOo.
> 
> We get to see Gwen's first person perspective through her journal, and I like to think that Alistair talks to himself, so italics mean thoughts.

 

xXXXx

 

By midday, Gwen's muscles were starting to ache from overuse. She had busied herself with anything and everything to stanch the anticipation she felt deep in the pit of her stomach. Of course, the moment she chose to finally sit and rest her body was when she heard the first cry of one of the soldiers on watch. They had caught sight of the drove, marching down from the north road with wagons and horses, a large horned Qunari leading their way.

A wash of relief came over her and she went to her quarters to don her clean armor, dressing quickly in her sage-green light leather jacket that matched her eyes. She walked from her room still tightening her belt around her slender waist, making sure her spell book and lyrium potions were secure before picking up her pace to a jog.

In the inner ward, she found Cassandra adjusting her greaves with her foot up on a bench.

Revealing the excitement in her voice she called out, "Ready?"

"As always, Inquisitor." The Seeker spoke with a similar tone, though attempted to control her elation.

Shoulder to shoulder the two women walked briskly to the gates and helped two soldiers to lift the heavy wooden beam from the enormous iron brackets. Leaning it against the wall, they stood behind the gates and each took a deep breath. Placing their hands on the circular door-pulls, they heaved until it creaked loudly and it heeded their command to open.

All fourteen of the occupants had gathered for the arrival, but Gwen was the first to walk out into the open air. She cast an eye up the road and caught sight of Iron Bull giving her a friendly wave. She waved back reaching high so that he could see her.

As they grew closer she saw that not only had Bull come, but Dorian, Blackwall, and Sera. The Inquisitor sighed audibly and gave a second wave to the rest of her inner circle before heading back inside with the others.

 

.

 

Caer Bronach was soon bustling with soldiers. The efficient crew unpacked supplies and began to settle in for the rest of the day. Amid the noise of the full keep, Gwen beckoned the commanding officer to her side.

"Charter." Gwen grabbed her forearm in the typical embrace of soldiers.

The sober red-headed elf nodded back to her superior, "Inquisitor."

"Congratulations on the promotion." She smiled. "Leliana has the utmost respect for you. I know she's chosen well. Now, onto business?" Gwen gestured up the stairs which led to the inner ward and her small office.

"Of course, but before we go…" She trailed off and opened her jacket to retrieve a pack of letters from a concealed pocket. "I was to give these directly to you as soon as we arrived."

Charter placed the letters in Gwen's hands and she brought them close to her chest in a caring embrace. "You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you, Charter." The elf's freckled face lit up slightly at the change in the Inquisitor's disposition.

Gwen clapped a light hand on her back and they began to ascend the stairs. "Now, to work?"

 

.

 

"Boss. Good to see you." Iron Bull ducked under the door frame and into the Inquisitor's office. She rose from her chair and met him halfway across the room.

Reaching out to shake his hand, she responded. "Likewise, Bull. I was under the impression that your group was still in the Hinterlands on a personal quest for Blackwall."

"We, uh, finished early. And to be honest, it wasn't my kind of thing. We just picked up some Grey Warden shit and left. No fighting, nothing difficult."

Gwen tilted her head. "Hm. Well, at least you weren't here with us. We were stalled here for three days. Very unproductive."

He shook his head at her and winked. "I would've found _something_ to do."

Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and walked toward the door. "I don't want to think about the trouble you would have caused had you been with us, Bull. Not in the least."

He laughed heartily and the Inquisitor watched as he hit his horn on the wall and cursed. "Let's meet under the canopies in the inner ward instead of in here."

"More room?" Bull cowered slightly in the small space.

She laughed. "Yes, and I told Cassandra to gather everyone in the main ward."

Gwen hesitated a moment, her mind drumming up a last-minute solution to one of their problems. "Let's walk slowly. I have a favor to ask of you before we start."

 

.

 

Bull brightened up after the Inquisitor had made her request and the pair of them walked silently out into the courtyard together. Making a head motion toward Dorian, Bull left her side and she stood alone before her people, watching them interact with one another.

Hawke and Sera had their bows in hand, speaking in low voices with grins on their faces. Dorian and Solas seemed to be in the midst of a heated debate before Bull sidled up to soften his lover's agitated visage. Varric stood against a wall, making eye contact with her, and nodding before doing his own assessment of the courtyard and its folk. Alistair had cornered Blackwall and was furrowing his brow in thought as the two shared words. Cassandra saw Gwen immediately as she walked through the doorway and was upon her before the Inquisitor could make a full appraisal of the ward.

"Would you mind getting their attention for me?" Gwen smiled slyly at her.

Two fingers went into Cassandra's mouth and a clear, loud whistle broke free, bringing the occupants of the ward to their attention.

"Thank you, and stay beside me, if you will." The Inquisitor whispered.

The warrior spoke quietly and nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you all for joining me." Gwen started. "I daresay, you could not have come at a better time. Our small band was enough to hold this place, but barely. We toiled every day to have the fortress reach the state it is now: clean and safe. Your arrival means that my band will be able to close the rift in the lake, once and for all, making Crestwood safer for the locals and for the merchants that we hope will advance the trade in the area."

Motioning to her crew, she stated. "Today, my strike team and I will eradicate the threat lingering in the caves beneath the old village."

"And on the morrow, Iron Bull, with his crew and a band of soldiers, will be heading south to a particular set of ruins where a High Dragon makes her home."

Dorian gasped. Bull grinned wide and put his hand to the back of the man's neck and gave a _gentle_ shake. Sera's face blanched, shoulders dropped, and she abruptly slumped down on a barrel behind her as a colorful string of obscenities drifted out of her mouth.

"Once we're done here, we'll waste no time in preparing for our journey back to Skyhold. So, the eight noble soldiers who helped us out will be your guides. Look to them when you have questions about the keep or surrounding area."

Gwen looked at the red-haired elf. "Anything else to add, Charter?"

In a loud, clear voice that the Inquisitor did not expect, the elf responded, "Only to say thank you, Inquisitor, and Maker's speed."

Gwen nodded to her, then to her waiting companions, as the sun dipped into the western sky. "Time is of the essence."

 

.

 

A chill crept over her skin and Gwen shivered under her wool cloak. She sat on a boulder watching the dark caves for stray demons or undead as her companions slept restlessly behind her. The caves were still draining water from the lake, despite being empty for three days, and as they climbed ever downward into the heart of the cave system, it seeped up her boots and leggings. Her limbs were near numb as she fidgeted atop the large rock.

Hours ago, they'd found an alcove that was dryer than the main tunnels and made camp for the night. Gwen cast a jealous glance behind her at her crew, lying on the cave floor, nestled warmly under their blankets. Torchlight around them cast a soft glow onto their prone forms.

With a light hop, the Inquisitor stood up and began walking around the area to attempt to warm herself. The place was vast and quiet, save for dripping water. In the air, there was a damp unpleasant scent, like a mold-filled cellar mixed with the foul stench of decay, be it the lake fish or the remnants of the dead, stranded there so long ago.

Topside, they'd cleared the old town of demons, spirits, and walking corpses, but none of them had realized that the caves were haunted as well. It was nearly a constant fight since leaving Caer Bronach and though she had wanted to continue and seal the rift before nightfall, everyone was too exhausted and soaked through to move along.

In addition to aggressive spirits, there were benevolent ones as well, but their appearance was just as jarring. Red apparitions floated in her vision even now, their light moaning sending shivers of a different kind down her spine.

A short time passed and the cold subsided with her movement around the cavern. Still tired, Gwen found the large boulder again, taking her place on top of it, resuming the watch.

Green eyes blinked slowly and her head began to droop forward, until she felt the tug to stay awake. Jerking her head upright again, she shook it wildly to stave off the sleep. Her back was turned to the cavern leading to the surface, but when she heard a splashing sound from down the path, she rounded abruptly, readying her magic.

Remaining frozen in place, she waited for whoever, or whatever, was coming to step into the open hollow. Wavering firelight broke into the mouth of the corridor, followed by a tall, hooded and heavily armed figure with a torch. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief and slid down to the ground slowly, making her way to cautiously greet the newcomer.

The figure walked a few paces into the room and peered into the nearby hole leading downward. There was something about the way he moved that seemed familiar and Gwen paused briefly, the man rounding on her as she shuffled, his face obscured.

"Quite a long drop down." The cave echoed his low, melodious croon and Gwen's feet stuttered to an abrupt stop, her hands coming to cover her mouth in shock.

"No… No, it— _you_ can't be here." She shook her head back and forth, taking a few tentative steps toward the man. He removed his hood to reveal his face and Gwen met his familiar pale blue eyes.

"Gwendolyn? Maker's breath, I've finally found you." He threw down the torch and strode over to her with a long gait, pulling her against him in a tender embrace.

She let out a muffled cry as she pressed her hands firmly against the familiar crest adorning his Templar breastplate. Even in the dim light, he looked exactly as he did the day of the Conclave: his dark locks partly pulled back in a clean braid and grey at his temples, the rest of his hair just touching his shoulders and a light stubble on his chin from their recent travel.

Lifting her head to peer up at him, she asked, "Edmund… What are you doing here? How are you _alive_?" Gwen tried to put the pieces together in her mind, but nothing made sense.

"I survived in the tunnels below the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I had minor scrapes and burns and was eventually joined by a few others. Once we were well enough to travel, I set out on my own." He gripped her shoulders. "I thought you died and so I left. If I'd know you were alive, that you survived too, I'd have looked for you right away."

"It's alright." Gwen looked down to her hands still resting comfortably on his chest, and slightly pulled away. Their embrace felt wrong and unfamiliar, and she reasoned that she’d had changed so much since last they spoke.

He held her tighter, demanding her presence. "Stay."

The Templar continued. "We'd heard news of the Rebel mages in Redcliffe and tried to help, but by the time we got there, the Inquisition had everything under control. That's when I was given a description of the Inquisitor that matched your likeness."

As he spoke, his hands came to rest on her shoulders, then slid to her neck. His thumbs caressed Gwen's cheeks in their familiar way, but his hands were ice cold and Gwen shivered violently when he touched her bare skin. "I asked around and heard you'd come to Crestwood. There's a rift down here and I figured you'd be here sooner or later, so here I am."

"This is… a shock," she smiled sadly, "I'm happy you're here, of course. I mean, in the beginning I'd hoped that I wasn't the only survivor… now though—"

He cut her off, his eyes pained. "You left me there; you didn't even try to find me." Edmund jerked her face closer to his, her lips trembling as he closed in, his breath coming out in soft, white whorls. "I loved you, and you broke my heart."

She turned away, shaking her head, as a pang of fear rose to the back of her throat. The man before her was drawing her heat away and her skin began to numb where his hands laid. Thoughts began to betray her and she wondered if the person before her was Edmund, or something else entirely.

"Edmund never said he loved me.”

"I should have." His ice-blue eyes locked on hers. "My soul has been aching without you near. I want you back. Now, we can do all those things you wanted to do, Gwen: settle down, marry, start a family."

Coming to her wits, she narrowed her eyes at the man. " _Edmund_ always said we could never marry and the risk of having children with magic was too high."

"You wound me, my lady. I'm still your Edmund, only I've had time to think about my life with you hereafter, but you—you've _changed_. You don't want it anymore?"

Gwen’s heart ached with grief and she fumbled with her words. “Yes… _Things_ have changed _._ I'm the Inquisitor now. I have a duty to the Inquisition. I can’t—”

“Can’t… or won’t?” Edmund's eyes shut painfully and he sighed. "You should never have taken this position of power; it's changed you for the worst. As a Mage, you are bound to me. You know this to be true."

“I knew you wouldn't understand, but I don’t want to argue about it now; besides, we should wake the others." She implored him and pulled away an arm's length before he clawed at her arm to bring her back.

Turning toward the camp, she squinted to see another figure in the shadows, with blonde hair and glowing blue eyes, wearing feather-mantled, Tevinter mage robes and holding onto Hawke’s arms in a similarly tight grip.  She couldn't make out his whispered words, but knew whatever he was saying had a listless Hawke enraptured.

“What is going on?” She tried to focus on Hawke, to make her way over, but her wet feet were frozen in their place and soon her mind came back to Edmund.

Jerking her head back to the Templar, she watched as his face began to slide down, melting away as flames engulfed his entire body. Gwen screamed out in horror and tried to jump back, but his flaming hand grabbed her tighter as he spoke through fire and burning flesh. "Wouldn't we have been happy together?"

"Let me go, please."

With a strange melancholy reverberation in his voice, he continued. " _You let me die._ My bones are dust, blown into the air by that massive explosion and the pieces of my flesh that remained have long since been carried away by the birds. You survived, and have forgotten about me and what we shared. Now, you seek to replace me. Will _he_ warm your bed at night like I never could?"

Tears welled in her eyes, but did not fall. "I haven't forgotten Edmund. I regret with all my heart that he died in that place. I mourned him, I still mourn everyone that died that day!" From behind her, she heard clashing noises and vague words as well as felt the swell of Solas’ magic, but she could no longer will herself to turn from the burning Templar.

"Did you _ever_ care for Edmund?"

She sobbed her response, unable to rip herself away from the despair building within. "I did, I did, I did… I'm so sorry." Over and over, she cried her apologies to the burning man before her, her tears flowed freely down her face and neck as she dropped her knees to the ground in pain and sorrow, clutching Andraste’s pendant that hung at her neck.

A new voice rang out through the hiss of the demon’s snare which filled her mind; from its timbre, she recognized it as belonging to Alistair. "Release her, demon."

His presence alone was enough for her to let go of what will she had left and drop her body to the cold, damp ground; he would protect her until she regained some of her strength.

A strained wheeze tore from the burning lips and the demon's form began to change, as its rasp taunted the Warden. Alistair was roused from sleep and unarmed, but he held his shield and sword confidently.

Soon the demon’s form wore a tattered, black cloak and it floated on the air a few feet from Alistair's face. "It's too late for her, boy. She'll never rebound from this kind of lover's despair. She’ll die before you can sample her, I’m afraid.” The demon laughed and hissed. “What you’ll be missing, will be mine for eternity.”

Alistair creased his brow angrily, uncertain if the demon was telling the truth or not until he saw Gwen’s chest rise slightly. “I can see her breathing, you arse.”

The demon released a guttural cuss. “A few more moments and my underling would have had the other one as well, had you not dispatched it. I am centuries old and far more powerful; you too shall feel the chill of despair before long."

"Silence!" Alistair jabbed and kept his warrior stance, protecting his unarmored body from the demon’s sharp claws. He held his shield up and kept his sword ready to strike, as the creature circled him.

"Hmm, what do you have to offer me? What great woes have you had in your pathetic life?" A gaping mouth of enormous teeth, opened and shut awkwardly as it spoke to him, swirling around him and sniffing his aura menacingly. “Ah, the stagnant stench of unrequited love! From your regal father _and_ the little elven wench.”

"Shut. Up." Alistair lurched at the despair demon and it easily bounded away from him.

"Come now. Let's see what other morsels of sorrow do you have for me? Oh, oh— _yessss_!" It hissed and reached its hands out to touch the Grey Warden’s head.

Alistair batted it away, turning around so that he faced the camp and was standing protectively over Gwen's body. His foot brushed against her and he felt a reassuring squeeze on his heel through his thick woolen sock.

Despair rocked in the air arching its back and bending oddly, until it created its new form: a tall man with black hair, pulled into a tail at the nape of his neck, his face was angular and a dark beard adorned his jaw.

"Alistair." It spoke warmly in a low voice and walked closer to its victim.

The Grey Warden dropped his shoulders, pointing with his sword. "You can't be serious. I just _saw_ you change your shape into him."

The demon laughed, "And when the sorrow commands your mind, you will not remember." Behind its new shape, Alistair caught movement at the camp.

Playing along, he spoke to the fiend in an exasperated tone. "Duncan died over ten years ago. Yes, at first I was upset, but over time I came to realize that I carry his strength and purpose with me and rely on it every day. We defeated the Archdemon, Loghain got his comeuppance, and Duncan’s death was not in vain. I'm plagued with no more misery about what happened the night he died."

Duncan gave Alistair a stern look, his voice low and melodic. "That isn't true, or I wouldn't be here now, Alistair." He pointed a finger at the young man, and glared with dark eyes. "You disappointed me, my brightest recruit. I trained you myself and you failed me. You couldn't do the one simple task I asked of you and you lit the signal fire too late. Loghain fled the field to save those soldiers under his command. _Loghain_ is not the person I blame for my death. _You_ are."

Solas stood several yards away and had finished silently setting fire wards around the demon when Alistair made eye contact and signaled him with a small nod.

He clenched his teeth, his features twisting into a furious sneer. "Enough!! You don’t deserve to take his shape."

Alistair rushed forward causing the demon to jump back a few feet into one of the traps. Behind him, Gwen sat up slowly, leaning on one arm, and conjured a molten fire ball, hurling it at the offensive beast. A disturbed Hawke hung back, aiming arrows much slower that he was known to do. Varric took shots after the demon’s magical barrier was down and Cassandra came in to finish it with her sword, sparing Alistair the pain of having to kill a likeness of someone he lost many years ago. After the firelight faded, the companions shared uneasy glances, all around.

Varric laughed to lighten the mood, his voice still groggy from sleep. "You guys have all the fun. I wonder who it would've picked for me…"

Glancing at his fellow rogue, who stood with his back to a stalagmite with his head bowed into his hand, he reconsidered. "On second thought, I don't really want to know." He moved to stand next to the shaken Hawke and patted him on the arm carefully, leading him to his bedroll where the two exchanged quiet words.

Cassandra was kneeling at Gwen's side the instant the fighting stopped. "Inquisitor, are you alright?" The Seeker asked, her eyes full of concern.

"I'll be fine, Cassandra. Thank you." Gwen sniffled and smiled weakly at her. "You need to rest for tomorrow.”

The warrior nodded and stood, walking back to the camp, passing Alistair along the way as he deposited his weapon and shield near his bedroll.

"You didn't leave her alone, did you?" The Warden rounded on Cassandra.

"She said she was fine. I don't wish to embarrass her with my coddling, Alistair."

Shaking his head, he picked up his pace and returned to the site of the attack to find Gwen struggling to her feet. He came to her side, helping her up and gasping at her when she stood close in front of him.

"Maker's breath, Gwen, your lips… they’re blue." He hastily ran his hands over her face, feeling their coldness and examining her pale skin.

Gwen spoke with a nasally vibration from her fitful crying. "Oh my goodness, your hands are _so warm._ " She pulled his hand closer and he smiled at her enthusiasm. The moment she realized that nuzzling her face in his hands may have been considered inappropriate, she dropped them.

"Shall we… get you back to camp?" He spoke through a thin smile.

She nodded, pale pink with embarrassment. Together they walked slowly over to the alcove, behind where the rest were beginning to settle in again.

"Who's next on watch? Gwen isn't in any shape to continue. She needs rest." Alistair called out, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to help her walk.

Solas spoke up and walked to meet them. "You should allow me to check her for injuries."

"Just a wounded pride is all." Gwen responded weakly, shaking her head. "I'm truly just tired and cold. I need blankets, not healing." She turned, gazing up at Alistair, intent on taking advantage of his sudden tenderness. "But perhaps… if you would be so kind… well, you're so warm, do you think you could sit with me?"

"Of course." The Warden responded with a slow blink and a nod.

Solas regarded the pair with concerned eyes. "I'll leave you be then and take watch. Just… please inform me if you begin to feel ill." He waited for Gwen’s nod, then turned and walked away toward the open cavern.

Cassandra settled into her sleep roll, pulling her blanket over her head and not wasting any time before falling asleep again.

Gwen and Alistair walked to the back wall in the alcove and he moved their bedrolls side by side. With the intention to remove her wet garments, the Inquisitor sat on a rock, her hands shaking with such a tremor that she could barely keep her bootlaces in her grip. Alistair watched her and knelt to help her with her water-logged boots and socks.

Reaching his hands out to untie her boots, he uttered, "Maker’s breath, you’re soaked."

Gwen’s eyes forced themselves open and her head dipped down involuntarily from sleep, or the cold, or the terror of seeing her dead lover. “Hm?”

He pointed. "Your boots, socks, leathers: take your pick. Everything below your thighs is soaked through."

"Oh. Yes, yes of course." She flushed and looked away as he finished peeling her boots and socks off, laying them on a nearby rock to dry.

"Stay with me. Don’t fall asleep yet.” Alistair had reached up to lift her chin and met her eyes with growing concern. “You should have said something before we all fell asleep. I've seen men and women succumb to a frigid stupor in the wet and cold."

"I wasn't thinking." Flushed with another wave of embarrassment, she responded with a shake of her head and quickly lifted herself into a standing position. Spots filled her vision and her knees buckled before she felt Alistair's long, strong arms reach around her waist to steady her. Her arms slid under his arms and around his waist to steady herself. Gently, her forehead fell onto his shoulder. The padded gambeson felt warm under her cheek and she closed her eyes briefly.

"Easy there." His voice was almost a whisper, the breath teasing her ear.

This was the second time that she had been this close to him, but now, it was different. This time, her body was weary and her mind swimming in a lake of random thoughts. It felt good to be pressed against his body, his arms tight around her back, strong around her small frame. She felt comfortably safe. Gwen turned her head towards his neck and inhaled his scent. There were hints of sandalwood and orange mixed with sweat and leather and the unmistakable scent of man. His heat permeated her body and tingled her frigid skin, making her pull him closer, her fists gripping his shirt weakly.

"How can you be so warm?" She murmured into his shoulder. "Is it a Grey Warden thing too?"

"No, I've always been this way." A rumble of laughter rolled through his chest. "I sweat like a pig when the weather grows warmer."

She attempted to laugh, but instead shivered when he pulled away to adjust the blankets once more, the lack of heat sending her limbs back to the bitter cold.

Turning back to her, he questioned, "How does your head feel?" He furrowed his brow and placed a hand on her forehead, brushing a few strands of hair away.

"It’s clearing, I think. I'm just cold now, really. Despair demons, they suck the warmth and joy from your body." Gwen smiled at him, looking down at both of their bare feet on the sleep roll below.

Nodding towards the blankets, a grin formed on his face, "I think we're all set. I’ll cover your legs to get them warm. They'll dry in a few hours."

He lowered his eyes and pulled the extra blanket from his bed. Alistair swept the covering around her shoulders and pulled it tight, gripping the blanket together at Gwen's collarbone to keep it from falling. The warmth of the additional layer was helping to sap the cold away.

Perhaps it was the need to feel alive again after being confronted with representations of death, or perhaps it was the new tenderness that the man before her expressed, but whatever compelled her, also dulled her reservations.

Finding a new boldness within, she brought her hands to rest on his, as they still grasped at the blanket. Gwen’s eyes slowly rose and a whisper escaped her lips. "Had I known that being in distress would have elicited such a response in you, I'd have feigned injury days ago."

A handsome flush graced his cheeks at her admission and he looked out to the others at the camp. Most everyone was sleeping again, and from their place in the alcove, they were all but invisible to Solas' eyes. He dropped his hands from her grip, but doing so caused the blanket to slip down her shoulders. “You—you’re _delirious_ ; let’s sit.”

With an agile catch, Alistair pulled the covering up again and Gwen reached out to touch his unarmored chest, pulling at the torn fabric where the arrow pierced him days ago. Remembering the intense fight, she inhaled deeply.

One hand to travel up his chest, slowly up around his neck. With a hopeful stare, she touched his jaw lightly and he shivered, despite his warmth. The shiver traveled up her arm and feeling it, she paused, touching his stubbled chin for a moment more in silent deliberation. He didn't pull away and his gaze intensified. It was then that a daring glimmer filled her eyes and she brought her lips carefully up to his, placing a gentle nip there. A moment later, he cautiously moved his lips to nip back at her.

Her eyes finally closed and she brought her other hand to his cheek, as she intended to deepen the kiss by opening her mouth and pressing her soft lips more firmly upon his. He then closed his eyes and opened his mouth to receive it, lifting his hands from her shoulders to her neck and in the process dropping the blanket to the ground with a soft whoosh. Alistair's mouth was soft, and warm, and he kissed with a need that warmed Gwen to the pit of her stomach. She wanted to keep going, but one passionate kiss was all he allowed before his hands flew down to her shoulders again, and he gently pried her away from him. Confused by his hesitation, Gwen tilted her head and slowly relinquished hold of his neck.

Alistair backed a half-step away and lightly took her hands in his. He was perplexed, but there was also something sad and unreadable in his eyes. His head dropped forward, chin to his chest. When he looked up, he gazed hard into her eyes before speaking.

"We shouldn’t do this." His hands held hers for a moment more before dropping them and taking another step away to turn his back on her.

Gwen lifted her hand to her forehead and responded in a level voice. "I’m not sure what came over me; I’m sorry."

He turned back around, speaking in a hoarse whisper. “You’ve just been through a hell of a night. You’re not well...”

The Inquisitor was silent and her face flushed in the low light as she waited, unsure of what to say. Her body became chilled again by the removal of her source of warmth and she wrapped her arms around her body.

Ever the gentleman, Alistair noticed her chills and stooped to pick the blanket up, draping it over her shoulders again, making sure she had it in her grasp before he directed his attention to her state of health again. “You need to warm up and rest.”

With clouded thoughts, Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat, took a seat on the bedroll, nodding to him when her mouth refused to work.

“Lie down. I’ll see if I can find something warm for you to drink.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

When he walked out of sight, Gwen quietly admonished herself for her brazen action, rolling onto her side away from the cavern and covering her face with icy hands. “Maker’s breath. What was I _thinking_ kissing him like that?”

It was true that she’d thought about it, but without a sure knowledge that he felt the same way, the action could have been disastrous. “It wasn’t disastrous though, in fact, he kissed me back.” Idly, her chilled fingers touched her lips, still warm from the kiss.

She heard soft steps behind her and Alistair’s sigh before he came around and laid down next to her on his bedroll. She watched him lie on his back, his brows creased as if he was trying to decipher a puzzle.

“Other than alcohol, I couldn’t find anything. I don’t think starting a fire for tea is a good idea, so I suppose I’ll have to warm you up myself.” Alistair turned on his side and motioned her for to come closer.

Gwen shook her head. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, considering… what just happened.”

The man smiled nervously, averting his eyes. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Gwen reached out to touch his hand and his eyes jolted to her. “It wasn’t _that_ terrible, was it?”

“It wasn’t terrible at all, and that’s the problem.”

His fingers closed around her frigid extremities and he pulled her nearer. Willingly she moved, turning so that her back was flush against his chest. His warmth covered her back side and he pulled the blankets over them, providing a cocoon of warmth around her. Lastly, he placed his arm over her, securing her in their combined bedrolls.

Feeling his heart beating wildly behind her kindled a new heat that passed over her, resting in the pit of her stomach. Frankly speaking, she dared to ask, “Do you think there could be another time… for _it_?”

His expression softened behind her. “I… don’t know. For now, sleep.”

Moments passed with only their mingled breaths heard between them before they fell into a warm and peaceful sleep.

 

* * *

 

oOOOo

 

A low pinging noise pulled Alistair from his dream-state. Cold had crept in and he cursed silently, reaching around for his blanket before he realized where it was. A modicum of grief passed through him as he lifted his body up and found her, lying under their blankets next to him. She’d pulled them tightly around her, leaving him with nothing to cover himself.

 _Thief._ He smiled sadly.

Checking his ward, he knelt over her, touching a light hand to her cheek and arm: they were back to their usual tone and warmth. Though he was careful not to wake her, she stirred a bit and he waited, kneeling cautiously, only to catch a light moan as she rolled to face the wall. His lips curled into another sad smile before he walked away to find his pack from its place on a boulder a few feet away.

_What the hell am I going to do about her?_

As he pulled out his water skin, his hand brushed against a leather-bound journal. He pulled it from the pack and gripped it hard. He loosened his hold and ran his fingers over the smooth leather and buried it back in his pack. Taking a large swallow of water, he allowed his mind to wander and an image of the Inquisitor flitted through his memory.

_I remember, she handed me the notebook with a shy smile, "For your thoughts. Mine has served me well. I hope this one does the same for you." I took it, offering her what I hoped to be a grateful smile._

An audible sigh filled the alcove and his thoughts begged to linger painfully on the woman he'd been calling friend these last few days, the same woman he kissed just hours ago.

_I must tell her before this escalates… that anything between us would be… impossible._

He desperately wanted to process what happened, and to traverse his thoughts for a reasonable and polite response to their kiss, but a few minutes after waking, it started, as it had these last few months. Low, in the back of his skull, it was like an insect buzzing, crawling its way into the rest of his mind until his head was filled with the insistent noise. There were no words or discernible tune, but it could be described as music of some sort, full of need and dread.

It hung there, calling him to move, to search, and to toil away mindlessly. It sickened him to think that his thoughts were akin to those of the rancid beasts he's sworn to protect Thedas from during the Blight. It took nearly all his will to reject it and bury it within, though he wasn’t sure what would be worse: the guilt of his impending rejection of her tearing at his heart, or the disgusting pull of the Calling ripping at his mind.

 _Tough one._ He huffed out a cold laugh.

Alistair sat on a boulder in front of the still sleeping Gwen and grabbed his hair, tugging at his scalp viciously. He hated the weakness that the Calling brought forth. In the public eye, he maintained composure, thankful for his former Templar training to withstand the near debilitating effects of the curse. He could focus enough on speaking or fighting and if he deliberately controlled his thoughts with force, he could ignore its call for a short time. However, in the moments after rising, when his mind was still adjusting to the waking life, the itch crept in and took over.

Shaking his head, he tried to push it down. He fumbled in his pack again, this time for something to eat. His Grey Warden appetite was calling to him as well, but all he could find was an apple.

He made a disgruntled noise. _This will have to do until breakfast._

A low, whistled tune hit his ears before he could see the watchman, but he knew who he would find guarding their camp.

_Varric. Making the noise that woke me: Bianca, of course._

Refocusing, he lifted himself and jogged lightly to the dwarf's side, finishing his apple before speaking to his ally.

"Is everything alright? I heard shots." He wiped his mouth on his glove.

"Just an undead straggler. See him pinned to the wall there?" Varric points to a twitching corpse with three cross bolts in it: one in the head, chest, and leg.

"But if you'd stay, I'd be grateful." He snickered. "For more than just the manpower. I'm bored out of my mind here."

Alistair placed a hand over his brow, his fingers massaging his temples. "I'm not sure what kind of company I’ll be."

"Any company is good company, _Lover Boy_." Varric wagged his eyebrows and folded his hands neatly atop his crossbow. The look Alistair shot him raised a warning that Varric read, causing him to continue onto another subject. "And I don't want to be alone out here if any more demons come around. I'm a little trigger happy as it is."

"Yes, I can see that." He chuckled and turned towards Varric.

Moments passed with silence between them. Alistair tried to think of something to talk about, something besides Gwen, but the only thing that came to mind was the demon encounter hours ago.

_I probably shouldn’t mention Hawke or Anders… but…_

"The apparition that Hawke saw, was that… Anders?"

_Damn curiosity._

Varric's expression fell and he answered succinctly, "Yes."

"I only met him twice. Once when he was traveling with the Hero of Ferelden and once in Kirkwall, right before the Chantry fell."

The dwarf's voice lowered to a whisper, "Hawke let his anger get the better of him that day. Shit, none of us predicted it or we would've done something to save the Chantry, talk Anders out of it, something!" He sighed and continued.

"They balanced one another out. It was a perfect match, or so we thought. Never thought Hawke would ever do something like… _that_." Varric looked away.

Alistair cocked his head. "You're saying… they were _lovers_?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe that." Alistair's face contorted with bewilderment. "How could he do that to someone he... cared about?"

"You've spent time with him, right? He's a maniac at times. I love the guy, but he's crazy." Varric lowered his voice again. "That day, he was beyond furious and Anders was beside himself, asking for an end, in not so many words. We all knew he'd need to pay for his crimes at some point and Hawke... just snapped."

Varric shot Alistair his own warning glance. "Oh, and I wouldn't go asking him about it personally or you might just end up with a knife in your back too. When the Inquisitor brought it up, I thought Hawke was going to tear her limb from limb, but he just trashed his room and took it out on the poor bandits that roamed during his watch. He knew he couldn't kill the only person who can actually fix these damn fade rifts, but I'm sure he was tempted."

The Warden stared off into the darkness of the cave. "We traveled together for months. He's a decent fellow. I knew about Anders before we started together, but I guess as Grey Warden we're used to looking past people's misgivings and valuing them for their skills." Alistair moved away from the rogue a few steps to dig his toe into the ground restlessly. "You really think he would have harmed Gwen?"

"It's tough to say. Like I said: he's a maniac. Some of the shit he did when we were in Kirkwall..." Varric shook his head. "Let's just say I disagreed more than once, but he always got the job done. Can't fault his methods."

"Yes, well. Let's just talk about something else, shall we? Lest our friend wakes to find us discussing him."

Varric laughed. "Heh. Good point."

Varric tapped a rhythmic beat on Bianca for a few minutes, then looked over to where Alistair leaned against a large stalagmite, his arms crossed. "How about… her Inquisitorialness?"

_Maker's breath. I should just walk away right now._

"Her _what?_ " He huffed out a short laugh. _"_ Can't you just call her Gwen?"

"Nope. It's just not in me to call someone by their proper name, Lover Boy. In fact, I've been holding on to your nickname for a few days now."

Alistair turned his head and furrowed his brow in confusion. "There's nothing going on between us, if that's what you're implying.”  He rolled his eyes and looked to the cave ceiling. "Can't just come out and ask though, can you?"

"I suppose I can be direct now that she's already opened up to you. She likes you, Lover Boy." He chuckled. "How'd the first night go?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but that is none of your business."

"And yet I haven't offended you enough to make you walk away."

"Not yet."

The rogue sighed knowingly. "So, how _did_ she react to your rejection?"

“My what?” Alistair dropped his arms to his side and turned his body toward Varric, taking a step closer in the process, whispering. “I didn’t _reject_ her.”

“Then why do you look so miffed?”

“This is my natural state.” Alistair creased his eyebrows harder.

Varric laughed. “My guess? You’re angry at yourself. Now, if you came out here with a swagger and a smile, I’d know you accepted that woman’s affection and perhaps expressed your own. Instead, you look like shit."

The Warden smirked sarcastically. “You’re quite charming.”

“Only to the ladies, my friend.” He laughed hard. “Everyone else gets the truth, and you should go for it with Trev.”

The man shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

"What she wants, I can’t give."

Varric barked out a laugh. “ _Shit_. Don’t bait me, Lover Boy.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Alright, _Alistair._ ”

“Thank you.”

“Hold that thought—you may rethink your thanks.” Varric chuckled deviously. “Now, pray tell, why can’t you _give_ her what she needs? And you’d better tell me the truth or I’ll start emasculating you in fine prose.”

The Warden furrowed his brow, but continued with a resigned sigh. “Do you know anything about Grey Wardens?”

“Not much. Blondie wasn’t really forthcoming, but I do know…” He paused, closing his eyes in a long, painful blink.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this: Bethany, Hawke’s sister, she... poor thing died in the Deep Roads because of the tainted darkspawn blood she’d come into contact with.”

“Poor thing, indeed.” Alistair shook his head.

“Once we got back to Kirkwall, without her, Anders was furious. He let slip that he could have saved her had he been there. He’d also let us know when we were coming up on any darkspawn. I figure, the Grey Warden’s found a way to make the taint useful, but I’m guessing it’s still deadly in the long run. How much time do you have?”

“Quite astute of you. With the Calling already happening, I can’t be sure. If we can’t stop it, my guess is less than a year before I’ll leave for the Deep Roads for good. This Calling is… far worse that what would have happened naturally.”

“Alright, so I see your point, but she likes you. And she hasn't batted her pretty eyelashes at anyone since day one. You could be a very lucky man, if only for the year.”

“It isn’t fair to her.”

“True, but you could try the telling her the truth. She’s a big girl.”

_No, she’s not. She’s fragile as it is._

In an uncharacteristically derisive tone, Alistair grumbled. “She’s young and has no idea what her feelings mean. We’ve known each other for barely a week! It has to be infatuation at best.”

_Has to be, right?_

"The heart wants what the heart wants." Varric gave him serious smile and shrugged.

Alistair snorted, crossing his arms over his chest in silent disagreement.

"Besides, what does the amount of time you know someone even matter in these times? Take what you can get, before it's too late. That's what I always say."

"There are a lot of things that need to be considered, Varric. I don't ever just 'take what I can get.' Maker's breath." He sighed, his hand covered his face again before he pulled it down, wiping the sleep from his eyes in the process. "Now is hardly the time for romance."

“Look at me.”

Alistair turned his head abruptly.

Over a creased brow, dwarf pointed to the Warden to drive his point home. "I know what I see, and she's happier now compared to a week ago. It's because of you."

_I suppose that’s something._

The Warden allowed his mouth to curl into a small smile and Varric nodded to him, before he turned to walk back to his perch.

Alistair’s stomach began to protest for lack of food. "Do you happen to have any food on you? I'm about to wake Cassandra to ask her to start making breakfast."

" _Please_. Don't do that. I get precious little time without that woman breathing down my neck about something." Varric rifled through his pack and threw a small wrapped parcel to Alistair.

As he opened it, his eyes lit up. _Bread and cheese._

"I think you're my new best friend." They laughed together, the noise echoing off the cavern walls.

A tune began again, whistled from the dwarf as Alistair began to eat his light meal. Varric was growing on him and he could see why Gwen valued his input. He was quite a perceptive fellow and brought a comical personality to the group. In hard times, cheerful companions help to break apart the monotony of dread. And these were hard, dreadful times.

 

* * *

 

 

xXXXx

 

When they began their descent the day before, they had no idea how far they would have to travel or that they would have to step on rotted, wooden walkways to reach their present location. They had yet to reach the rift, but according to Gwen's pulsing hand, they were getting closer.

Down they went, into the maze of walkways and caverns, moving quickly and efficiently killing anything that moved between the camp and their current whereabouts. Gwen had cringed at every creak of the boards and stepped carefully on yet another slippery surface, all too aware of the black depths she could fall into at any moment.

Leading the way, she crept slowly. "Watch your step." She used her staff as a walking stick, hoping it would aid her should she slip.

Moving ahead she held a flame-ball torch in her hand, as she reached a new part of the caves.

"Varric!" She called out behind her and he came carefully to her side. "Dwarven ruins? Here? Are these the Deep Roads?"

He crossed his arms. "Yep. They're underneath everything. Just… be careful. The last time I found an uncharted Dwarven ruin, it didn't turn out so well. Darkspawn, deepstalkers… _betrayal_." Varric shuddered.

Alistair chimed in from the tail of the party, "This could be part of the Deep Roads cut off from the rest, I suppose. I can't sense any darkspawn yet, but I’ll keep you apprised if I do."

Gwen nodded to them both. "Onward then."

 

.

 

The group was getting quite efficient at fighting demons and had the combat movements memorized. Through the Dwarven ruins they traveled, finding a library, to Gwen's delight, and some other interesting treasures, which they stowed away in their packs for later appraisal.

When they reached a long corridor with the open fade rift in sight, the Inquisitor removed her glove for fear that the green sparks would catch the leather aflame. Solas assured everyone that it was not possible, but even so, Gwen felt more comfortable allowing the mark to flare without resistance.

She caught sight of Alistair's and Hawke's expression as they glimpsed her active hand for the first time. They both looked a bit sour at how it reacted to the proximity of the rift and in the dark depths, the crackling, sparking light bathed her in an eerie green.

"This is the last stop before we move on to that rift. I can sense that it's larger. Solas?" She turned to her elven friend.

"Yes. This one has been opened for a longer period and has grown substantially. We will need to dispatch a great number of demons to close it."

The Inquisitor nodded. "Take a small break and then we're going to end this finally. Looks like we'll be traveling back this way so leave packs here. Bring only what you need."

She turned to rummage through her own pack for a small snack and potions when Alistair came to her side.

Looking up at him, she commanded, "You should prepare—"

He spoke with confidence, starting to speak before she finished her words. "I'm ready."

They stared into one another's eyes a moment too long and she faltered, peering into her pack again. "Listen. Can we forget about last night? I wasn’t thinking… I think I just needed some comfort after that demon and the cold. I'm sorry about... _everything."_

He reached out to lay a hand on hers as she held the bag and she gazed up at him hopefully. "Don't be sorry." Alistair gave her a tentative smile.

Dumbfounded, she peered at him, taking a deep breath as he walked away while she muttered to herself. “What does that mean?”

Biting into a crisp apple, she cleared her head, mentally preparing herself for battle as she consumed the fruit.

 

.

 

Nearing the large fade rift, they broke into two groups and separated, battling the demons on two fronts. Alistair and Cassandra knew they could take single opponents, but favored working with a mage and rogue to benefit the entire group. Positioned on the outer rim of the platform, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas stood encased in a magical barrier, striking at demons left and right.

A cry sounded over the rumbling and cracking of the fade rift. "Keep them off me so that I can disrupt the power from the Fade! It will weaken them considerably!" Gwen held out her hand and the sick green light streamed out from her palm, changing and contracting the open rift. "Here they come again!"

Alistair came to her side, slashing his sword at angry spirits, while Hawke stood raining arrows down upon demons before they even had a chance to get close. When one did, Alistair or Gwen was there to dispatch them or push them back far enough for his arrows to finish them off.

In their time at Caer Bronach, Solas taught Gwen one other beneficial magical effect: the ability to dispel other magic. He hypothesized that the same magic used to remove magical advantages from enemies could also disrupt the magic from the fade bubbles that birthed demons from the ground.

She readied her spell and experimentally positioned it over two of the erupting orifices. "Here we go, Solas!"

A white-blue ring emerged from the ground around the openings and a mist of magic flew up into the air. When it came down, the rift bubbles fizzled to nothing and no demons emerged. Gwen cried out across the cavern. "It worked!"

Solas chided her from his position several feet away, electric blasts coming from his staff as he responded. "Focus on the task at hand, falon. We're nearly finished."

Cassandra slashed her sword through a Terror demon's chest and called out. "That's the last. Close the rift, Inquisitor!"

Gwen ran to the center of the platform, away from Alistair and Hawke and held out her hand to the rift. A loud, rising buzz filled the room and again the sick green tendrils shot forth from her palm. They moved the rift around, condensing it until nothing was left but a hazy green smoke wafting in the air. She pulled her hand back to her side and placed her glove back on.

When she turned to face her companions, she again caught sight of Alistair and Hawke who stood close by, their expressions now filled with wonder and amazement, mixed with fear at their first experience closing a fade rift.

Hawke was the first to speak, albeit with a slight waver in his voice. "It's a wonder that your mark doesn't rip you apart when you use it. That's some powerful shit."

She laughed at him, "When I first used it, I thought the same thing. It pulls at me still, but I've managed to control it."

Alistair gaped absently at the air with wide eyes, but responded. "Yes… we can see that." His eyes sought hers and gave her a new look of admiration. "Incredible."

From across the platform Varric called out, "Let's clean this place of valuables and go home."

"I think we can all agree that we've spent enough time in these caves, hell, enough time in Crestwood, to be completely honest." Gwen laughed loudly, still giddy from the completion of her mission. "I'll follow your lead, Varric. Find us an easier way out of these ruins than the way we came, and I'll buy you a bottle of whatever you want, however expensive."

"Oh-ho! Inquisitor, you have yourself a deal."

Their gleeful laughs and banter echoed off the walls and they began to peruse the debris for anything of value, finishing as quickly as possible, and returning to the light of day using Varric's shortcut.

It was late afternoon when they reached the surface. Gwen sighed pleasantly at the bright sun on her face and shed her cloak and outer leather jacket to call more warmth down to her chilled skin. The trek across the old village was quick and the companions spoke few words, focusing their energies on making it to Caer Bronach. Tonight they would sleep, dry and undisturbed before their long journey back to Skyhold.

 

.

 

After a hot bath, Gwen returned to her quarters just in time to watch the sun set. Many an evening had she spent alone on the battlements of Skyhold watching the same setting sun, and she smiled at the familiarity. Her mind went to Leliana and the letters Charter had given her.

Quickly turning to her pack on the cot, she sat and pulled it into her lap, finding the parcel. Gently, she untied the cotton string and lifted the first one from the pile, holding it in her hands delicately as if it were something fragile and precious. She moved her pack and laid down on her stomach with her feet in the air. The letter lay before her and she sighed as she opened it and began to read.

 

...

 

_12 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Skyhold_

_Dearest Gwen,_

_I wonder how your journey fares. I received your letter from the courier days ago when you were still traveling from Skyhold to Crestwood, but it has been several more days and I haven't heard from you. By now you're probably knee deep in whatever business has your attention and too busy for your dear, old Spymaster._

_I laughed at that bit, for I know you most likely have written me many letters (as always) and the courier has yet to arrive with them._

_The castle is so busy with construction, new recruits, amongst other things and I hardly have time to sleep some days. Today is slightly more still and for once I can sit and breathe in the crisp, cold air as it blows through my tower windows. I miss your presence and look forward to our talks when you return._

_I hope you are finding Alistair to your liking. He's a good man and has a kind heart if he chooses to reveal it. The Grey Wardens have hardened him, starting ten years ago with my Mihna. In my tales, I play on her softer side, but in truth, she was a hard woman to follow. (Part of the reason why I love her so; she is unapologetically her own person.)  I know how to handle stubborn people, but not everyone does._

_I watched as Alistair slowly turned from a man of heart, to a man entirely focused on his duty. Ah, but those are stories for another time, my dear._

_It is my truest belief that one needs compassion and logic to make the difficult decisions and you, my friend, have both of those traits. Alistair was once my friend and it pains me to think that he may not encompass those ideals anymore. Perhaps spending time with you will soften him again._

_Maker protect you and guide you back home,_

_Leliana_

 

_…_

 

A smile spread across Gwen's face and she reached for another letter, but before she could open it, there was a knock at her door. She stood, running her fingers through her dark, damp hair before opening the door to find Cassandra waiting, a slight grin on her face.

"Come with me, you have _got_ to see this." The Seeker beckoned Gwen to follow, so she grabbed her light leather jacket and obliged.

"What's going on?" The Inquisitor questioned as they walked.

Cassandra allowed herself to smirk fully, picking up her pace until they reached the upper battlements surrounding the lower courtyard. "Bull returned from his _mission_ and he's causing quite a stir among the soldiers."

"Oh my."

Before them, filling up the small entryway, were two wagon-loads of spoils either looted from the ruins or cut from the belly of the High Dragon. Along with the loot, was the beast’s giant head, which the Qunari straddled, with an open cask under one arm and a mug in his hand. His cheers could be heard throughout the keep.

Gwen peered over to her friend and laid a hand on her shoulder. "What a glorious day this has been, Cassandra."

"Indeed." She smiled back, surveying the prizes in the wagons below with wide eyes. They both turned and descended the nearest set of stairs to give their congratulations to their companions, and of course, join in on the revelry for one last night. The Crestwood missions were complete and tomorrow they would begin their travels back to Skyhold.


	12. On the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Alistair's perspective is under the heading oOOOo

 

xXXXx

 

_17 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Personal Journal_

_Caer Bronach, Crestwood_

 

_It's really too early to be writing… my mind is still in a fog from recent sleep and the sun is still down. I can barely see the parchment in this low light, but I can't seem to slip back into the Fade, however hard I try._

_I'm excited about starting our journey back home in a few hours, and perhaps excited at the prospect of spending the entire trip with_ _him._

_That kiss… the damnable kiss. I replay it in my mind and it gives me the shivers._

_He protected me again, from the cold this time. Sleeping next to him was… wonderful._

_I'm more than a little embarrassed at my actions, but there was a feeling in that moment when he kissed me back and there was... something to it… more than just a simple kiss. Am I imagining things?_

_Damn, it was a good kiss though. And now I need to force it from my mind: there's work to be done._

_One final breakfast and meeting with Bull at Caer Bronach, then we'll pack the supplies on our horses and begin the long road._

_Bull has graciously offered to take the news of our success to the Mayor and locals in the Village so that we may leave at daybreak which… is… sooner than I thought. Maker, the Sun will be up within the hour._

_Skyhold, here we come._

 

…

 

The well-rested horses, eager travelers, and few breaks made for a quick pace. It was late afternoon on the first day of their travel when the group came to a fork, taking the northwestern road called the Imperial Highway. That particular road was a maintained, well traveled path that would lead them around the northern tip of Lake Calenhad, then westward toward Skyhold.

At the fork, the road beneath them turned from an uneven mess of dirt, foliage, and large rocks, into a smooth, hard surface free of holes and debris. A few large oak trees hung over the sides of the road and beyond them were hill upon hill of green fields, the new growth peeking out and stretching their first leaves high toward the evening sun. To the west, the sun descended on the horizon turning the sky from pale blue to orange to purple as it fell.

Cassandra, the most experienced rider, led the group switching between a steady canter and a trot, allowing the horses time to rest, eat, and drink. Soon, their bodies began to bear the brunt of their riding pains and complaints of aches were voiced around their party.

Following the Seeker's lead, Gwen slowed her horse to a gentle stop and pulled out a map. "I swear there was an inn around here somewhere."

Varric pulled up beside her and reached out to hold one side of the map. "I think it was… here." He pointed his finger to a dot on the map. "We just started on the highway, so it looks to be a ways ahead."

"Oh, of course; it was near the Circle Tower. What was the name of it again?" She scrunched her face up.

"Oh, you mean the Spoiled Princess." Riding up to her other side, Alistair paused. "I wonder if they still serve rabbit on Tuesdays… is today Tuesday?

Gwen and Varric looked over to him, lifting their eyebrows in amusement. The rest of their party gathered directly behind them. "What? I trekked across Ferelden several times during the Blight. We stopped here on occasion."

"Did I hear someone say that we're getting rooms at an inn?" The irritability could be heard in Hawke's voice as he sighed. "My ass, for one, would appreciate it."

"I happen to agree with him." Gwen laughed aloud and pivoted her head to see Solas shaking his head and groaning lightly at the rogue's crudeness. "We've got the coin and this will be the last time we'll be able to sleep in a bed for a few days, so—"

"We all agree to it." Cassandra broke in, ending the debate, if there ever truly was one. "But we should keep moving or night will be upon us before we get there."

The Inquisitor nodded and clicked her tongue to the tawny Taslin Strider beneath her. "Let's go, girl."

Allowing Cassandra to take the lead again, she held back purposefully until she set a leisurely pace alongside Alistair. She wanted to resume their friendship without having to worry about what happened in the caves.

Diving right back in seemed the best actions and so, the two brought up the rear of their traveling party. In an endeavor to find something to fill the silence between them, Gwen peered behind them at the empty dirt road.

"These roads are very clean. No debris or fallen trees, I wonder who takes care of them." Gwen said aloud, attempting idle conversation.

As if reciting from a history book, Alistair responded. "The Teyrns have allocated funds for such things and instruct the Arls or Banns to pay local farmers to clear the roads in the busy seasons. It's actually a fair deal between the nobles and farmers: the roads are clear for use by all and the farmers make some money before their crops fully come in, around mid-Justinian. We're lucky we're traveling in the end Spring though. Months ago these northern roads would still have been covered with snow and winter debris." Alistair flashed her a brief smile before turning his head away in sudden embarrassment.

She pondered for a moment before speaking, "Tell me, how is a Grey Warden so knowledgeable about the affairs of the nobility in Ferelden?"

"Oh, I… just read a lot." He kept his head turned away.

"You do?" Gwen tilted her head in bewildered excitement, as reading was one of the woman's favorite pastime. "I've haven't seen you with a book."

"Yes, well, I don't carry them _with_ me." His answer came after a few moments. "I just, you know, read books when I have the chance."

"I do remember talking about your interest in how the Inquisition works when... we… before the wolves, you know."

He nodded and gave a thin lipped smile.

Lost in recalling their delightful morning together in Crestwood, he shook her head slightly. "Why is it you enjoy reading books on the functions of Ferelden nobility?"

Alistair furrowed his brows in irritation. "I just like to know how things work, that's all. It's a… curiosity."

The mage shrugged at her companion. "Fair enough, I'm not one to judge. I myself enjoy reading personal journals. The Circle had dozens of them from mages and even some from Templars." She stared ahead wistfully, moving along with the horse's gait. Her disposition changed from content to sullen and her posture became more rigid.

Alistair noticed the change in her and spoke lowly. "You miss it, don't you?"

She snapped to the present and looked over to him. "What? Oh." A gentle blush graced her cheeks and she laughed, "I suppose I do. I miss the time alone most of all."

Gwen made a wide hand gesture from atop the horse, grabbing the reins as her horse lurched to slow at her awkward, pulling movements. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a full day to myself?" She recovered and held the reins in her hands again, as Cassandra taught her.

The Warden appeased her by answering, while suppressing a grin at her amateur riding skills. "No, how long?"

"Over eight months! Well before the Conclave. After the rebellion, I used to spend entire days in the tower library researching, looking over the wreckage for anything that could have helped the Mages and Templars to make peace. I thought the journals would help, but no one had faith in the words of their predecessors." She looked over to Alistair who listened intently. "Circle life wasn't bad for me, even before I became an Enchanter. In the end, I wanted the fighting to stop and to return to some semblance of what we were. Hopeless dreams, I suppose."

Gwen continued, "I managed to salvage some books, but much was lost in the fires set by my fellow mages who decided, after years of working, dining, sleeping beside us, we were worth killing because of our beliefs. It sickens me: all our hard work, all of the knowledge lost in that mess."

"Why would other mages want to kill you?"

"I'm an Aequetarian. I believe in the Circles existence, not as a controlling prison, but as a place for learning and self-discipline. Ostwick Circle was never as bad as others. The terrifying stories I've heard from Cullen..."

She shook her head, disgusted, before continuing her rant. "Edmund and I both wanted peace, and we thought we could set an example for the others by our trust in one another. Though I suppose we were a poor one, given our secret _relationship_. Though respectable fellows, I shudder to think what the other Templars might have done had they found out."

"I'm sure they'd look the other way. You'd be surprised how many secret relationships there were among Mages and Templars. The, ah, Hero of Ferelden, she hinted to many such _relationships_ among her peers."

"Really?" The Inquisitor bit her lip in thought, trying to think of couplings. "I admit I wasn't particularly focused on romance as a young adult and I only recall one other pair in my recent travels." Her voice came out in a whisper and her eyes focused on Alistair as she explained.

"In the Hinterlands we recruited a mage woman who also had a Templar lover, though he killed himself. I… have a copy of the letter in one of my codices at home. It was terrible to read. The poor man couldn't cope with their relationship and… well, you understand. Though the circumstances were much different, it reminded me of my own loss." She turned her head back forward, focusing on the ride.

Her partner began in a low voice, "We don't need to speak of this anymore if you're uncomfortable. I didn't mean for the conversation to take a turn toward _him."_

"Does it bother you to hear about him?"

"No, I don't mind." Alistair looked over to her, but her eyes shot down the road before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry to bring it up, but my mind is still processing what happened in the caves." She looked over to him, meeting his eyes again, attempting to convey her meaning.

"You mean, the demon?" He held her gaze, a glimmer of curiosity in his eye.

Gwen's voice became coy. "The demon, _yes,_ amongst other things..."

"I can relate." Alistair looked away when she alluded to their kiss.

She smiled kindly at him, hoping to get him to open up to her. "That man, the one the demon took form of to tempt you, who was he?"

The man's eyes saddened at the recollection and he answered in a hushed tone. "He was my mentor, my friend, and the Grey Warden who recruited me into the Order."

"You have such reverence in your voice; he must have meant a great deal to you."

"Yes, he did." Alistair cast his honey-brown eyes to her, smiling. "He took me from a life I never wanted, where _I_ was never wanted, and gave me purpose. When he died, I felt like I lost my chance at knowing what a father could feel like."

Her voice attempted to conceal the pity she felt, unsuccessfully. "You never knew your father?"

"Nor my mother. She died shortly after I was born." When he spoke his tone and face were impassive.

"Oh, Alistair." Gwen tilted her head gently and reached her hand out to touch his forearm, her thumb stroking him.

The kindness was noted and he smiled quickly and looked away, his composure faltering briefly before he lifted his chest and took a deep breath. "Can we… speak of something else? I'm not quite ready to discuss my family, or lack thereof. It's a complicated affair."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

Alistair took control of the conversation, disallowing the finish of her thought, eager to change the subject. "How are you feeling after seeing Edmund?"

Stunned at his forthrightness, she blinked before answering thoughtfully, barely concealing her chagrin at his new choice of topic. "It was difficult to see his likeness, I admit, but I feel a kind of closure now that I didn't feel before."

"I understand, actually."

The Inquisitor nodded with a thin smile, "I'm trying to get over everything that happened down there. Especially, the way I _acted_ toward you." Embarrassed, Gwen looked ahead to their companions.

"Wait." Alistair reached out for her reins and they both stopped in the middle of the road. "If we ignore the kiss, it'll only grow into unimaginable tension."

Gwen's throat tightened uncomfortably. "What do you propose we do?"

"I'm sorry that I refused to talk about it then. Can we clear the air between us?"

Her face fell as she spoke, anticipating his rejection by the tone of his voice. "I should be the one apologizing. I could blame the cold or the demon, or the need to feel warm and alive, but truly, it was me putting my selfish _desires_ above my position. These are troubled times, and... _love does not belong here_." Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat.

Alistair nodded his agreement and looked over to her and holding her gaze as they rode on. "Can we continue on, as friends? I'd be remiss if I let that go because I allowed this one incident to change our relationship."

The woman's insides twisted at the words, but she answered him with a smile. "Yes, of course."

The Warden nodded once again and a thin smile crossed his lips.

The conversation lulled and the noises of the road became more apparent as each of their minds swam in thought. The clop of the hooves on the hardened dirt road made a rhythm, and birds chirped, landing on the sides of the roads to flounder in the loose soil.

Cassandra turned around at the front of the group, calling out to them all. "Let's try a faster pace, we don't have too far to go and I for one don't mind pressing the horses a bit to reach the inn more quickly."

Gwen called out hastily, eager for the ride to clear her mind, "I'm in agreement. Lead the way, Cassandra." Before the pace quickened she stole another glance at the man beside her, his quiet smile greeted her and, despite her attempts to purge his presence from her mind, the man occupied her thoughts the rest of the way to the inn.

 

.

 

Just before the sun set, they crested a hill, slowing as they neared their destination. The fork they took off of the main highway ended at the Lake Calenhad Docks, the empty Ferelden Circle Tower, and the Inn and Tavern: The Spoiled Princess. Gwen rode to the lake's edge and peered out to the giant, foreboding tower that shot up darkly from the fog rising from the water.

A shiver ran through her as she recalled the stories Leliana and Cullen told her and the books she read pertaining to its fall during the Blight. Since the Circle had rebelled, the tower remained empty, a black mark on the land, a reminder of the plight of the Ferelden mages.

Backing the mare away from the water, she led her over to the meager stables next to the inn and dismounted, her companions already trotting to the shabby out-building. Leading her horse into one of the stalls she looked around for a stable hand and when none could be found, she left her horse in the company of Cassandra and went into the inn.

The scent was the first thing she noticed as she walked through the doorway: stale beer and wood smoke. There were no patrons and the innkeeper was nowhere to be seen. Gwen strode to the bar and knocked on the counter. A strangled wheeze could be heard from the back room and the nervous mage leapt over the counter in a flash, pulling the curtain aside, setting her eyes on the sleeping, snoring innkeeper.

She placed her hand on her chest. "Maker's breath, man, I thought you were in trouble!"

He continued to snore, unaware of her intrusion.

"Ahem." She voiced louder, but got no response. "Excuse me?" She called out even louder and when that didn't work, she gave the man a kick to the bottom of his foot.

"Wha-? Andraste's ass! What are ye doin back here? This is a private area!" He jolted up in the chair he was just lounging in and pushed her out to the front room, placing her on the other side of the bar. Once she was there, he smoothed his greasy, dark-grey hair back and smiled politely at her.

"Now. What can I do for ye?"

"We need three rooms and stalls for six horses for the night." Gwen smiled sweetly at the man's wide eyed expression. "Oh, and I'm sure my companions would be interested in dinner and ale, if you have it. Rabbit, perhaps?"

The innkeeper smiled through his yellowed, crooked teeth. "Ain't no problem at all! As you can see business is a little slow since… well... you know, everything that happened with the Circles. Haven't seen this many travelers at once since last summer."

Gwen slapped her hand lightly on the smooth wooden counter. "Well, I'm so very glad you decided to stay open. My friends and I are weary from the day's ride. Would you help with the horses? Personally, I'm not very familiar with taking off her saddle and... whatnot." She saw the hesitation in his eyes. "I can pay you for the service, of course."

"Right!" His smile returned and he pointed a thumb behind him. "I'll fetch my son and meet ye out by the stable."

 

.

 

An hour later, all the horses were stalled and resting with fresh oats and hay for dinner. Most of the group had made their way into the inn to wait for dinner and to rest their tired bodies for the evening. As she turned to follow the teenage boy back into the inn, Gwen caught sight of someone sitting against the post on the dock of the lake and meandered over.

Curious, she walked closer to the dock, her approach muffled by the sounds of spring: bullfrogs, crickets, and the occasional splash of a jumping fish.

Several feet away she realized the man was Hawke and turned slightly to leave, before pivoting back to him again, resolved to extend a hand of friendship with her adversary of the last week. The creak of a dock board sounded as she tried to sneak up on him and he turned his head toward her, laughing coldly as his head hit the back of the post with a dull thud.

"What do _you_ want?" He sighed at her.

Gwen huffed lightly. "You know, when I saw it was you out here I was going to turn right around and leave."

"Is that supposed to persuade me to invite you to sit?" Hawke spat.

"No. I thought it was worth mentioning that I still came."

"Why did you?" He snarled at her.

"I don't know... I suppose it's because we both had a traumatic experience recently." She looked across the lake. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hawke scoffed and laughed coldly. "No! I don't want to talk about it. Leave me be."

Despite his words, Gwen took the few steps to where he sat and leaned on the dock post across from him. "Were you ever here before the rebellion?"

"No." His answer was short and he leaned his arms on his knees, gazing at the weathered wood of the dock between his feet.

"Neither was I. I heard stories, the horrible things that happened there during the Fifth Blight. Did you know that Commander Cullen—"

Words came out of his mouth in a quick string. "I don't really want to talk about that _lout_ or the Circle Tower."

"Oh." The realization hit Gwen with a pain deep in her stomach and she wanted to run back to the inn in embarrassment. "Hawke, I'm so sorry, I forgot that he, that Anders—"

" _Don't_ say his name." The defeated tone in his voice was apparent and the cruelty of his former words was gone.

Gwen stayed and lowered herself to the dock and after a few moments she spoke. "The man who I saw that night, he was a Templar at my Circle and... my lover. The demon said things that he would never say just to make me feel the sadness I couldn't let go of. They weren't _real,_ Hawke."

The rogue pulled a flask from his belt and took a long draw, wiping his mouth on his sleeve afterwards. "Doesn't mean that what they said wasn't the truth."

His words lit a fire in Gwen's eyes and she tensed as she spoke. "That's exactly what it means! Demons lie. It's what they do to pull at our emotions and draw us into their grasp. The demon fed on that buried grief. We just need to work on letting that grief, _and guilt_ , go."

He slammed his fist into the dock boards beneath him. "Shut up! Just shut your damn mouth. You talk too much, and I don't want to hear these things from you. And would you stop trying to befriend me! You have no idea _who_ I am, no idea _how_ I feel." Hawke buried his face in his hands. "Just leave me alone."

Though her heart raced, begging her to flee, she stayed calm and kept talking. "I may not have dealt the killing blow to Edmund, but I know the guilt of watching him die, knowing that I'm alive and well. I know the pain! Why do you think you and I were such easy targets?"

"We're nothing alike." He shook his head, dismissing her words, and took another swig from the flask.

"We're not _so_ different, Hawke. We both took positions of power because someone thought we were the best suited for the job. The jobs are different, yes, but the expectations are the same. At Caer Bronach, I—I blew up at you because you told me I wasn't willing to make a sacrifice, and it got to me. I hate to admit it, but you might have been right. Sometimes sacrifices must be made."

"What?" He tilted his head at her.

Gwen sighed loudly and continued on in a low, shameful tone. "I wanted to leave, I _wanted_ to make that sacrifice."

"But you didn't." The rogue narrowed his eyes at her, reading into her words and expression.

"No, I couldn't. But I realized that someday…"

After a moment, his eyes loosened and a whisper came from his lips, finishing her words. "That someday, you will have to." He held her gaze and took another sip, hesitantly handing the flask to her as she reached out to take it. "I understand _that._ "

Gwen pulled the flask from his hand and took a long swallow. Through the fit of coughs, she managed to speak. "Oh dear, Hawke. What _is_ this?"

He laughed. "Hardest stuff I could find in that tavern across the bridge behind Caer Bronach. Probably locally made."

She handed it back to him, smiling through another cough. "I think I'll stick to wine or ale."

"To each his own." He shrugged.

He looked out to the circle and his eyes saddened before he turned back to her. "I understand having to make sacrifices, someone has to do it, otherwise many more will suffer from the results of doing nothing."

Gwen nodded to him, her eyes finding a weathered knot in the wood on the dock, taking in his words.

"Shit, people think I'm this madman, making rash decisions left and right, but I have a code I follow. There will always be people who are unhappy with your decision, no matter which route you choose, remember that."

She looked up to him and smiled. "You've got a good bit of insight, Hawke."

He groaned, grimacing in earnest. "Oh, don't get soft on me. Tomorrow, I'll be bitching at you again for some reason or another." Hawke took a small sip and pursed his lips into a smirk.

"And who says you're a madman?" Gwen winked at him, bringing the conversation back to the lighter side of life.

Hawke raises an eyebrow. "Varric, for one."

They laughed together, allowing it to die away naturally, their eyes meeting each other in an awkward stare.

Gwen broke the moment of silence, compassion filling her voice. "Do you want to talk about _him_? This is where he lived, was it not?"

Hawke half-smiled and looked at the dock at his feet again. "Yes, _he_ lived here."

"Life in the Circle: I remember the days like they were yesterday. Kinloch Hold was more severe with its rules about leaving the tower though. How did he leave its confines?"

"He escaped. A lot." Hawke laughed. "The eighth and final time he broke out, he was recruited into the Grey Wardens by the Hero. What a cunning man, that's what drew me to him… that and how compassionate he was underneath all his damn _foolishness_." His words ended in a whisper, yet were full of emotion.

"I've only heard a little bit about him. He opened a clinic, in Kirkwall, right?"

"Yes. That's where we first met. We needed a Grey Warden."

"They are handy, aren't they?" Gwen smiled and looked away from Hawke, allowing the noises of dusk to fill the space between them.

"You like him." He stated quietly.

"Alistair?" In a sudden flash, Gwen's eyes darted to Hawke's and she blushed under the low light of evening. "No, I… he's a friend, that's all. " Her response came, but she looked away from the rogue again with slight sadness.

Hawke just shook his head.

"How long have you known Alistair?"

Hawke thought for a moment, then responded. "I suppose... it'll be nearly six years, on and off. We first met in Kirkwall during the Qunari attack, he aided us briefly then went about his Warden business. Never met a man more concerned with his duty. He fought through a city under attack just to conduct his business, then left. And let me tell you: we could have used the help. I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out why he's joined up with you."

"He's desperate."

"You're right." His dark hair shook as he nodded forcefully. "He was desperate six months ago, when he came back to Kirkwall in search for answers about the Warden's Prison. He'd made the connection between Corypheus and the magister from the news of the Conclave. Even after the Commander put a price on his head, the fool still wanted to help them."

"His dedication is admirable, but I agree that it's misplaced."

"He was alone and in hiding, and so was I. I was ready to leave the city at that point, so I offered to join him. Together we followed the clues leading us to the Inquisition and then Crestwood—"

Gwen nodded, filling in the blank with her own part of the story,"—where you joined our cause." She paused, then changed the subject. "You must know him quite well then?"

"Not as well as I'd like." He smirked at her, huffing out a laugh. "He's a good man, I know that. And I found myself in your _situation_ during our travels."

"Do you mean, you fancied him?" Gwen's eyes widened in true shock. "Is this why you were so protective of him after his injury at Caer Bronach?"

Nodding, he took a swig of his flask. "It was unavoidable. There were moments, are moments even now, when Alistair reminds me of Anders. It took me a while to understand that my infatuation was _unhealthy._ No one can replace Anders. I think I follow him to compensate for what I… did. Anders had a good heart. Alistair has a good heart." Hawke shook his head. "We're really getting deep here, aren't we?"

Smiling at his admission, she spoke, "I'm as surprised as you are, and still recovering from your confession: you had _feelings_ for him? Did you ever tell him? Did he… reciprocate?"

The man began a lively, rolling laughter that echoed off the lake, as the laugh broke down to a chuckle he brought his eyes to meet the mage's. "Maker, no! I think the mere mention of my affection would've been enough to send him from my presence straightaway!"

Reaching her hand up to cover her own smile she chuckled, "I think you're wrong; he would have politely refused, under a bright red flush of skin."

"Yes, you're right." Hawke chuckled and picked at a splinter of wood with his finger. "You understand him, don't you?"

"I'm beginning to understand all of you, honestly. We've spent an entire week together, barely parted, and that kind of exposure to people outside of your family is very revealing."

"At least in Kirkwall my people had their own homes to return to after our trips." He winced at a thought, and laughed. "I'm not sure I could have spent this kind of time with some of them. How do you do it?"

Without thinking she answered, staring blankly at the dock beneath her. "I count the days until we reach Skyhold again."

"What's the count?"

"Five days, less if Cassandra can push the Taslins further."

Hawke groaned. "I'll be counting with you, then."

Snapping to the present and curious to hear more about Alistair, she pressed him. "So… What did you two talk about when you traveled with him?"

Hawke reclined his head back and rolled his eyes at her. "Mostly our past, stories from our travels… I don't know and I can't rightly recall the finer details now." Lifting his flask, he shook it gently.

His features twisted in confusion. "If you want to know more about him, why not talk to _him_?"

A warm haze had begun to fall over Gwen's body. It loosened her muscles so much that she leaned lazily into the post, dangling her legs over the side of the dock. "We have talked, but not a whole lot since, well… not since the Crestwood caves. I kissed him." Gwen covered her face, embarrassed.

Hawke raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "It went that bad? Hhm, maybe he does prefer men."

She shook her head from under her hands. "I think I was delirious when we kissed, and so yes, it was mortifying. After that, we decided to simply be friends."

The rogue laughed loudly. "I used to use delirium as an excuse for my behavior too."

The mage dropped her hands into her lap with a plop and glared at her cohort for his outburst. "You're an arse."

"And you're a sap."

Gwen rolled her eyes before smirking at the man.

"You sensitive types over complicate things." He laughed and took a sip from his flask again. "Just fuck, and things will work out in the end."

Gwen's jaw dropped and her face reddened at his crude use of words. "I—I can't believe you just said that! Maker, if I keep sitting here, I'm going to need more alcohol to numb myself to your vulgarity."

A chuckle of laughter erupted from him and he handed her the flask again. "Well, there I can oblige. Don't spend too much time with me or I will corrupt your innocence."

His laughter died away and he met Gwen's gaze as she took a small sip, wincing as it burned down her throat.

Hawke spoke again. "The only person who I couldn't corrupt was Alistair. After all the time we spent together, he's still a good man, with morals and values and all those things I normally can't stand about people. Alistair is different though."

"Did you try to _corrupt_ him?" Gwen allowed a sly smirk to hit her face and she passed the flask back to its owner.

"Is that… some sort of euphemism?"

"Of course not! I'm truly curious. You spent all that time with him..." She trailed off, eager for the rogue to speak again.

Hawke began to chuckle deeply. "I tried and failed. That man is a rock. He's incorruptible, _impenetrable_!" Taking another swig from his flask, laughing loudly before he handed it to Gwen, who took another sip of her own.

A fit of laughter came over her as well and their symphony rang out across the lake. "You are so incredibly lewd! I can't believe you said that. Poor man would be so red in the face were he to—"

"—be standing right behind you?" Alistair emerged from the shadows at the end of the dock and walked slowly towards the pair, his arms crossed, his face definitely not red. They turned toward him, wide-eyed and finally quiet. "I came out here to see what was taking you so long and I find you drinking together and talking about _me,_ of all things. I suppose I should be glad that you've finally found something in common: making fun of me."

Gwen was the first to respond and she spared a glance at Hawke who suppressed a grin. "Don't flatter yourself. We were talking about a lot of things, Alistair. You just happened to be at the tail end of the conversation." She lifted herself from the dock, handed the nearly empty flask back to Hawke, and walked to stand with the Warden. "We're about to come in."

Alistair called out as she neared him, his arms still crossed and a smirk on his lips. "Good. Dinner is ready and the fire inside is a hundred times more inviting than this old, damp dock."

"Well, you've convinced me." The rogue jumped to rise, staggered and made his way toward where Gwen and Alistair stood, pausing to lay a hand on each of their shoulders before he shuffled back toward the inn.

"Remember what I said: the sensitive types overcomplicate everything." He called out behind him as he walked away.

Gwen stood a foot away from him, swaying gently, a liquor induced smile on her pink lips. In a husky voice, she whispered to him, taking a step closer. "Did you hear that bit?"

"I did." He whispered back, reaching his hands to steady her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Just so happens that I completely disagree, in case you were wondering." Alistair motioned with a nod to the inn. "Come."

"Are you angry with me for asking him about you?" They walked together slowly and spoke quietly. "I was only curious what the two of you were like on your own."

"No, I'm not angry. Though, I'd be careful with him. You can never tell when that man is lying.

"Yes, he keeps you on your toes." Gwen's words trailed off.

With his hand on her arm, she was pulled to a stop a few feet before the door. Alistair turned her to face him and spoke in a low voice. "Gwen, you are a singular woman."

He took a step toward her and she heard her accelerated heartbeat thudding in her ear as they stood together in the cool air of night. Courageous from the liquor, she admonished him with a sly grin. "Alistair, if you intend to say things like that, in that sort of voice, then it's going to be hard to remember I'm only supposed to be your friend."

He stared sternly at her forcing the words out and gesturing to the dock where she sat with Hawke. "I _only_ meant that last week you were ready to throw a punch at him and tonight you ventured to make him a friend."

Dismayed, she brushed him off and waved his compliment away as she turned toward the inn. "I took a gamble. Hawke and I, we shared something dreadful. I wanted him to know that he's not alone in the guilt and grief. I feel it too."

Alistair followed a few steps behind her. "All the same, you're opening up and it's a good thing."

Pausing a few feet from the door, she turned to look at him, sending him a thin smile. "Perhaps I'm learning that _friends_ are worth having, no matter how difficult it may be to be in their presence."

He lowered his eyes and clutched his stubbled chin as he closed the gap between them and followed her into the tavern.

* * *

 

xXXXx

 

_19 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Personal Journal- On route to Skyhold Imperial Highway, north of Lake Calenhad_

 

_What. A. Day. I am utterly exhausted, physically and mentally. We slept well at the Spoiled Princess last night, but Cassandra kept us all on a strict schedule all day and even into the evening._

_Tonight, we set up camp by firelight. I think she may be more intent on reaching Skyhold than even I._

_I'm writing on watch again, the small fire behind me creates a delicious warmth on my sore muscles, though the light it is providing is pitiful and my eyes are strained._

_The Imperial Highway is a blessing to travel. I feel excited at our progression. Two days gone and we're almost to Orzammar. The walls of Skyhold call to me. I want to sleep in my own bed again._

_I pity the horses, but Cassandra assures me that the Taslins are bred for endurance. I still give my sweet Sophia apple slices throughout the day to keep her spirits up._

_Not much time for talk with my fellows today. I think everyone feels the same thing: too tired and focused on the journey to think about talking. We made small meals or foraged for foods while the horses rested and drank, keeping us even more on task than day one._

_Alistair and I have been somewhat distant since agreeing to be only friends. I wish we could move beyond the kiss, but I can't get it out of my mind. I wonder if this means that my feelings toward him aren't simply infatuation and maybe I care about him more than I admit._

_Dear Maker, that would spell disaster for me since, he's made it clear we should be friends. I have to respect his choice._

_Alas, these types of thoughts are best left for a time when my mind is sharper._

_Tomorrow we intend to pass by the Dwarven city and make it south of Jader. It will be the last of our travel on the highway as we begin our trek up into the Frostbacks. I, for one, am grateful for the weather, it shouldn't be terribly cold this time of year._

_My thoughts are everywhere. I know upon my return to Skyhold, the slow lull of life I've become accustomed to these last weeks will fall away and I'll be busy again. I admit, I need the distraction._

_I can't stop thinking about Alistair. I'm not daydreaming that he'll change his mind and suddenly confess his affection to me, nothing like that._

_I just wonder why he's so guarded._

_I wonder why he only wants to be friends._

_I wonder if it has something to do with getting his heart broken by Mihna Surana all those years ago._

_I'm too tired to continue this in my journal, but rest assured, my mind will swim until I fall asleep tonight, which won't be long now. I may have to have someone relieve me of watch. I can barely keep my eyes open. Off to wake Cassandra._

 

_..._

 

_~Green leaves rustle in the late summer breeze, bringing the blue afternoon sky into view and then out again as the branches move with the wind. Opening her eyes to the peculiar sight, Gwen gasps and sits upright._

_She's under a tree in the middle of a field and she hears a one-sided conversation in her vicinity. Curious, she decides to investigate and creeps around the side of the tree._

_Staying hidden, she watches as a boy, no more than ten, dances around excitedly with a small wooden sword, wearing a burlap sack over his clothing. On a rock, a few feet away, there lay a stuffed toy rabbit. By the look of it, is greatly loved by its owner: one of its eyes had stitches missing and its body was stained and lumpy._

_Suddenly, the boy calls out a single sharp whistle and a distance away, bounding through the tall fields, comes a huge creature with black fur._

" _Bear!" The boy calls out._

_Gwen doesn't think, only acts on her protective instincts and dashes in to stand in front of the boy as the 'bear' closes in. She pulls at her magic, unintentionally creating a shower of sparks from the mark on her left hand. A giant barrier encompasses the boy, the stuffed rabbit, and the entire tree._

_Behind her she feels a light kick to her foot and she turns to see a frightened boy cowering on the ground, shielding his eyes from her crackling hand, pushing himself away from her on small, hurried feet. She shakes away the magic as best as she can and kneels with her right hand up in surrender._

" _It's alright; I won't hurt you."_

" _Y—you're a mage!"_

" _I'm an Enchanter. I have control over my magic, I promise." She decides to clench her left hand behind her back until it behaves._

_The boy nods reluctantly, calming himself enough to sit upright and pull his burlap armor over his head. "Are you here to see the Arlessa?"_

" _No." Gwen rises as the boy rises. "Is she hurt?"_

" _She's got a baby in her belly." The sandy haired boy kicks at the grass in the clearing, looking at the ground with scorn. "I heard Eamon say that they'll call for Circle mages soon."_

_The mage tilted her head in confusion. "Eamon Guerrin? Of Redcliffe?"_

" _Ye-es. He's the Arl," the boy states with an obvious tone._

_Gwen knew the current Arl was Eamon's brother and a spike of fear shot up her spine at the thought that time might be twisted again somehow. She decided to question the boy further._

" _What about his brother, Teagan?"_

" _Oh." He considers this for a moment, then grins holding up his weapon. "Teagan is the best! He gave me this sword, see? Sometimes when he isn't busy in the castle, he comes to visit me. We play with the dogs and sometimes he even lets me help choose which ones will go out on the hunt!"_

" _Hm."_

_Speaking of dogs seems to loose something in the boy and he runs around her, picking up the rabbit under one arm. "Bear!"_

_Gwen begins to panic. "Where?"_

" _No." He laughs easily. "Bear is a dog."_

" _Of course he is." Gwen chuckles sarcastically, dropping the barrier around them._

" _Bear! Come here, boy!" A near bellow comes from the boy, and the bounding resumes until the dark animal comes into the clearing._

_It is indeed a large, black dog with a close resemblance to a small bear. He nuzzles the boy, licks him, then bites at the stuffed rabbit._

_As if he had rehearsed it, the boy stretches his sword out and yells. "Unhand the innocent, ye foul beast!"_

_Widening her eyes in amusement, she stands still to watch the show._

_The boy lurches forward with his sword, playfully attacking the dog as it rips at the stuffed animal. The dog rolls over for his playmate and after rescuing the rabbit from his clutches, the boy trots away to the tree. There he tends the poor thing's wound._

_The woman watches the boy's face drop as he examines the stuffed rabbit's arm, torn loose from the attack. He holds it gingerly into his arms and brings it before her._

" _Do you think you could heal him, ma'am?"_

_Gwen smiles warmly. Freeing her wavy chestnut hair, she pulls away the cloth tie and affixes it to the animal's arm. "This is only temporary. I believe this little guy would do better with more of a traditional suture, than magical medicine, but I do think he'll live."_

" _Hear that, Oliver?" He smiles down at the toy. "The pretty lady says you'll be fine."_

_As if the boy has another pressing idea, he pulls at her hand and leads her to the tree. Nailed to the trunk are many boards that led up to the high branches._

" _Follow me!'_

_Once up, they keep climbing at the insistence of the boy until they sit precariously at the top and can look out over the field. A large castle comes into view: Redcliffe Castle._

" _Do you live there?" Gwen asks._

_The boy scrunches his face in annoyance. "I used to, but the Arlessa… she didn't like me there. I live in the Chantry now."_

_Confused, by his words, she nods glumly. "You're such a sweet, well-mannered boy. Why would she make you leave?"_

_He shrugs and sits Oliver on the branch next to him. "I guess… it's because I'm a bastard."_

_Gwen's mouth drops open in shock, her heart plummeting at his words._

_Before she can respond, the boy looks up to her with kind, honey-brown eyes and asks her with true innocence. "Does it bother you that I'm a bastard?"_

_Eyes widening in a startling realization, she presses her lips together and whispers to him. "I don't mind one bit, Alistair."_

" _Hey! You know my name!" The boy-Alistair's smile is huge and he drops down a few branches, off on his way to another adventure. "Will you play with me? I'll be the brave knight and you can be the princess. I'll rescue you from evil!"_

" _Of course," She states, though her mind begins to question her surroundings for the first time. The boy slips down the tree, out of her view._

" _I must be dreaming… but why of Alistair, especially him as a young boy." Cautiously, she begins her descent, thinking the entire climb down. "I'm missing something here."_

_By the time she reaches the last branch, her thoughts give her no more clues and only more questions. Intent on answering them before the dream ends, she realizes she must find the boy. Perching on the last branch, she decides to jump._

* * *

 

oOOOo

 

_~Across endless rolling hills, fields of wheat blow in the late summer breeze. The soft, almost melodic rustling wakes him and he sits up slowly in the middle of a copse under a large tree. He reaches a hand to the back of his neck and brushes it over the top of his head, rubbing gently at his hair as the ruddy mop blows in the increasing wild wind._

_Dressed in cotton peasant's clothes, Alistair stands and spins, looking around at the fields of wheat and the darkening sky above. There is no end nor beginning to the landscape. Confusion sets in. His mind reels. He remembers a woman with sage-green eyes._

" _Gwen?"_

_The sky sends down a whirling wind that whips around him, as he searches the clearing to no avail. He looks up into the tree, seeing the whirlwind shake the branches wildly. Nearing the trunk, he stops suddenly and touches the wooden boards in reminiscence._

" _My favorite tree."_

_Honey-brown eyes dart upwards just as a figure falls, pinning him down to the soft ground._

_The entangled pair lie there for a few seconds before Alistair attempts to lift himself. "Hello? Could you—"_

_Gwen's voice comes muffled from his shoulder, her hair splaying over her face. "Alistair?" She raises her head to meet his eyes and cocks her head, confused. "You're full grown."_

_He lifts an eyebrow and grins impishly, his voice coming out as a low croon. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that, but I may want to."_

_She narrows her eyes at the man underneath her and lifts herself on all fours, balancing her body over him and staring deep into his eyes. Her eyes soften when she detects a scent lingering on him: sandalwood and orange. "Are you truly him?"_

" _Of course I'm me, and you… you're an extraordinary woman, Gwen." The man's voice softens and he lifts a hand to cradle her cheek, as his thumb ghosts over her parted lips. His other arm comes up to the side of her waist, guiding her down to him as his gaze fills with both desire and awe._

_Aware of their position and his advance, she moves suddenly, rolling off to his side, her heart beating up into her throat. "Sorry… For falling on you… I didn't expect you to be down here."_

" _Who did you expect?" Oddly unfazed by her abrupt action, he stands up._

" _Well, you… as a boy." She sighs, frustrated, lifting herself to stand as well. "I know it sounds ludicrous."_

" _No… I remember, I think. You jumped in front of me and put up a barrier to protect me from… Bear." He furrows his brow and looks around, finding the stuffed rabbit on its side by the base of the tree. Tenderly he touches it's face and tugs at one of its ears. A sad smile fades from his lips as he looks to Gwen with a somber stare._

" _Was that a memory?"_

" _Something like that."_

" _Then, the Arlessa she really sent you away from your home?"_

_Alistair looks at her with an impassive gaze over his eyes, as if he's practiced not caring a thousand times. "Yes."_

_She begins to puzzle it out._ " _It makes sense now, what t_ _he despair demon said about your regal father. And... and then what you said on the road today about not knowing your parents. Now this."_

" _Gwen." He nearly pleads with her. "Let this go, I beg you."_

_Curiosity peaking, she reluctantly nods, respecting his wishes._

" _How is this all possible?" He kneels to place the rabbit against the tree trunk._

" _We must be in the Fade."_

" _How can you tell?"_

_She looks around her. "There's a feeling, an intensity in this place… I can't explain it."_

" _I don't feel it." Alistair shrugs, clutching his chin in thought._

" _No… as a non-mage, I suppose you wouldn't. Which begs the question… are you lucid?" She steps closer and eyes him warily. Inhaling sharply, she almost pulls his scent from him again. "I don't think you're a demon, at least you smell like Alistair."_

" _We've already established that I'm not a demon." Angrily he walks to the edge of the copse. "I suppose I won't know if I'm aware until I wake up. What I'm more curious about is, why are we here… together?"_

" _These are fields surrounding Redcliffe, the castle is…" She looks around, perplexed. "The castle is missing."_

" _I know where we are… I just don't know why or how."_

" _Neither do I, but I see no reason to move. This clearing seems peaceful enough. We should wait until the dream ends."_

_As if by divine luck, they turn simultaneously toward a noise out in the field._

" _You had to say it, didn't you?" He shakes his head, his voice rising._

_Miles away they see a flash of firelight and soon flames race across the landscape in a wicked fury._

" _Oh, shit. I remember this part of the nightmare... Run!" He tells her, and she springs into action, following his lead._

_He runs ahead of her, checking back occasionally to make sure she's still there and unharmed._

_As much as he hates the thought as it crosses his mind, the smell is of burning wheat is not unpleasant, and he imagines freshly baked bread as he bolts across the expanse. The scent causes a hunger to begin in his gut and it impairs his senses as he moves through the whipping stalks of grain._

_Before long he can feel the heat growing behind him and hear the crackling of the wheat and Gwen's voice calling his name on the wind, but she's gone, nowhere to be seen._

_Several feet ahead a fallen tree appears and there, Gwen stands atop it, calling out to him urgently, yet incoherently. He's going too fast and barely realizes he's at the fallen tree before he's made to leap over it, colliding roughly with her, and finding a black abyss on the other side._

 

_._

 

_Falling down for longer than seems possible, he hits a cold slab of stone._

_A chill takes over his body and with it the realization that he's only dressed in his smallclothes. Eyelids crack to see torches lining a hallway and thick iron bars between himself and the light._

_Glancing to his side, he sees another prone form next to him. A woman. Her long dark hair is cascading over her small body and she is not wearing any more clothing than he._

_He was supposed to remember something about a woman, but his mind fails him and he looks to his surroundings, sighing angrily as he recognizes where he is._

" _You've_ got _to be kidding me. Here again?" He voices his irritation. "Why can't I have the dreams where beautiful women flock around me, feeding me various types of cheese and extolling my every virtue?"_

_He stands and turns around when he hears a groan behind him._

_"Alistair?" Her voice is deep, melodic, and articulate, bordering on sharp as she speaks his name._

_A small, pale, elven woman with sapphire eyes and black hair rises from the floor, placing her hand on her head in pain. "What virtues do you suppose they would praise? Your ability to prattle on nonsensically? Your talent for making a pair of unwashed socks last a full month? Or perhaps it would be your inaptitude for delivering witty one-liners."_

" _Ve-ry funny. You play her part very well, I might add, demon or spirit… or whatever you are."_

_The woman groans again and kneels back to the ground. "Play what part?"_

_He scoffs at her. "You demons think you're_ so _smart, acting innocent right before you push me to the ground and choke the life from me." He crosses his arms on his chest._

" _The years haven't changed you much. You're still an idiot, I see."_

_Alistair tilts his head and walks over to the woman, kneeling to study her eyes. He reaches out to touch her and she pulls away, batting his hand away in irritation._

" _Wait... Mihna? Is that… really,_ really _you?"_

_She rolls her eyes and smiles. "It's me, Alistair." They rise together._

_Alistair gives her a sideways glance. "Aren't you worried_ I _might be a demon or something?"_

_Through high pitched laughs she responds, "Oh, Maker, I don't think they could recreate your personality if they tried. You're too much of a fool."_

" _I suppose there's a compliment in there, somewhere."_

_From behind them in the dark of the cell, they hear a soft groan and meet each other's eyes cautiously._

_Alistair speaks first. "It appears we aren't alone."_

_Mihna narrows her eyes and moves silently toward the noise. "Ready yourself."_

_With a nod, he walks beside her into the darkened space. They see the form of a woman lying on the ground, human by the look of her and in the same state of dress as the Wardens._

_Rolling slowly onto her back she looks up to them with confused sage-green eyes. "Alistair…? Where are we? And who—"_

_Surana cuts her off. "You know her?"_

_Stunned and speechless, he kneels down to her, studying her eyes. "Yes, I know her, but I'm beyond confused. What is going on here?"_

_Mihna looks around and recognition sparks to life on her face. "We're at Fort Drakon again, at least we're dreaming about it."_

" _We're in the Fade. Alistair and I were just running in a field." Gwen comes back to her mind, standing up as Alistair and Surana back away. "Why are you retreating? Don't you remember?"_

" _I…don't, sorry. My mind is a little foggy." He shakes his head. "We can't be sure you aren't a demon."_

" _I'm not a demon." She states, irritated as she brushes the dirt from her body, simultaneously realizing that she's in her undergarments. Her eyes widen and she looks to her cellmates, pointing wildly. "WHY am I in my smallclothes?! Why are you both in yours?!"_

_Surana spares an amused glance at Alistair. "Is this your doing?"_

" _My doing?!" He acts defensively. "Why would this be MY doing?"_

_Gwen turns her back on him, but adds to the elf's theory. "Two unclothed women, locked in a prison cell with you. It does seem like a fantasy of some sort. The other dream was yours. Memories of Redcliffe, I think."_

_Alistair grits his teeth. "This is Fort Drakon. Mihna and I are dreaming of a memory and somehow, you got tossed into it."_

_Gwen chuckles uncomfortably, turning to the elf. "Mihna Surana… as in—"_

_Mihna presses her fingertips to her temples. "Oh please, don't say it."_

"— _The Hero of Ferelden?" The Inquisitor finishes meekly._

_Alistair looks at Gwen with smirk, first amused by her enamored expression and then dropping the smirk, he notices her unclothed body in the light for the first time._

_Clearing his throat, he looks to the ground. "I don't think she's a demon, Mihna."_

" _Nor do I." She moves her eyes up and down over the woman's body. "But the question still lingers: what are we all doing here?"_

" _And how do we get out of this cell?" Gwen adds._

_Mihna cranes her neck to look down the hall. "Hmm, no guards to seduce." She examines the hinges on the door with her small hands. "Think fade hinges freeze like real ones?"_

" _It's worth a shot." Alistair furrows his brow. "I'm more interested in how we're together in the Fade than finding a way out at the moment."_

_Mihna begins casting a freezing spell on the hinges of the door. "Where are you both right now, in waking life?"_

_Gwen answers, watching the elf mage intently. "We're together."_

" _Truly?" She speaks to her fellow Warden, surprised. "Not in Orlais anymore?"_

_He sighs, rummaging in the filth of the cell for something to shatter the frozen hinge. "No, I'm with the Inquisition, near Orzammar. And before you ask me a hundred questions, all at once, let me say that it's a long story and I don't care to explain it all."_

_Surana was taken aback. "Are you with Lel then?"_

" _No, she's at Skyhold—" Gwen answered quietly._

" _Who are you again?" Surana halts her ice spell._

" _This isn't exactly how I envisioned our first meeting, but I am the Inquisitor and my name is Gwen Trevelyan." She stands taller and prouder and holds out her hand. Surana takes it gently. "As I was saying, Leliana is at Skyhold, a fortress north of the town of Haven."_

_The elf looks down at their cordial embrace and turns the Inquisitor's hand around, searching for the mark. "I don't see it."_

" _That's because it's on this hand." Gwen holds open her left palm, which sparks to life as if by will, and smirks at Alistair. "I told you, people usually ask about the mark straightaway after meeting me."_

_The elf takes Gwen's hand and examines it closely before dropping it carefully and turning to Alistair. "Why are you with the Inquisition instead of the Wardens?_

_Alistair grimaces. "I was exiled… didn't I tell you not to ask me so many questions?"_

" _Technically speaking, you said you didn't want me asking them all at once—which I might add, is physically impossible to do anyway. I never really listened to you before, what would make you think I'd start now?" She smirks at him, sending a final frosty blast at the hinges._

" _You're still impossible, I see." He shows her a half-rotted, piece of wood. "Will this work?"_

" _Might." She moves aside. "Hit it hard."_

_He rolls his eyes and proceeds to shatter the hinges. Alistair lifts the door from the frame and tosses it aside with a clash. A chest nearby holds their belongings, as it had nearly ten years ago. Pulling out old armor and weapons, Alistair reserves his undershirt for Gwen and she sends him a grateful smile as she slips it over her head. The Wardens don their armor easily in this dream place._

_Gwen pulls at the garment she wears uncomfortably. "Hopefully there won't be fighting. I'm quite under-dressed."_

" _Stay behind me, I'll keep you safe." Alistair runs his hands over the re-fitted breastplate, which once belonged to Warden Commander Sophia Dryden along with the rest of his showy set. "I feel completely overdressed."_

_"Mihna, where are you in the waking world?" He meets her eyes._

_She slips on a lightly padded pair of leather boots and hums in thought. "I just began an expedition into the Deep Roads." She answers quietly, a chuckle forming under her breath._

_The man freezes and panic spreads on his face. "The Calling isn't real, you know that, right?"_

_The elf sighs and gives him a thankful look. "I figured as much since we're all hearing it, but no, I didn't know for sure."_

_She then scowls at him. "I'm here on business, not to end my life in some meaningless display of 'honor'. I thought you knew me better than that, Alistair."_

_He huffs and turns away, walking down the hallway away from her, muttering under his breath. Gwen follows him, silently observing the interaction with keen eyes and ears._

_Surana follows him quickly; her stride is long, despite her short stature, and each step down the corridor is made with purpose. She reaches her fellow Warden and pulls his arm around forcefully, so that he faces her._

" _Look,_ _I'm here with others. We found one another after the Calling started for us all. I knew there had to be more to it if we were all experiencing it at the same time and so soon after our Joining. I have business in the Deep Roads; let's leave it at that."_

" _You're with other Grey Wardens?" Alistair's brows furrow in thought and she nods._

_His hand comes up to cradle his chin. "I'm not sure how this is happening, how we're here together, but I'm not going to mull it over now. We may have precious little time here and I'll take advantage of it."_

_Alistair's gaze came to hers again, fear in the depths of his honey-brown eyes. "Stay in Ferelden, away from the west. Something is happening to Grey Wardens there. I'm not sure what, but that's what I intend to investigate. I'll send you any information I find and I hope you'll do the same."_

" _Thank you for the warning and yes, I'll keep correspondence open. Leliana knows how to find me. As for my journey, I'm not sure how deep we'll need to go, but I'll try to keep east unless need drives us." She nods at him and turns to walk over to a heavy wooden door. "And yes, there are Wardens and others with me: Sigrun and some of the Legion, Nathaniel, and Oghren."_

" _Your old crew from Vigil's keep. Delightful." A sarcastic tone drips from his words._

" _Such disdain." She tisks him. "I remind you that you chose not to accompany me to the Keep? These lot may be castaways, but they're_ mine _."_

" _And besides," Mihna's eyes sadden, "not everyone is with me."_

_Alistair averts his eyes and meets Gwen's, his mind falling to Anders. Surana didn't need to know they traveled with the mage's killer._

" _What are you looking for?" He asks slowly and narrows his eyes._

_"Years ago, I was given a gift of knowledge, from a dear friend." She answers vaguely and with her small hand, she lifts the latch on the door._

_In the next moment she meets his gaze, her expression unchanged as the sadness brings a wetness to her eyes. "It led me to believe that the taint isn't as permanent as I once believed. And so I'm searching... for a way to cure this curse, forever."_

_"What do you mean, 'cure it'?" His voice is guarded, cautionary and as he opens his mouth to speak again, she pulls the door and it bursts open before her. In a whirlwind, she is swept out. "Mihna!"_

_His attention turns to Gwen as she meets his eye and he realizes she's feeling the same terror he is. With an outstretched hand, he beckons her closer and pulls her into what he hopes is a comforting embrace. "Whatever you do, don't let go of me."_

_She nods, securing her arms around his waist as the corridor suddenly turns on end and the pair are sliding down the floor toward the darkened opened door, which starts to resemble a giant maw with sharp teeth._

_Alistair holds one arm around the woman before him, and with the other he claws helplessly at the floor for purchase, but it's pointless: the jaws chomp down as they near it. Gwen turns her face into his chest, he brings both arms around her protectively. Mingled screams fill the Fade and the giant mouth swallows them whole. ~_

 

…

 

"Holy Maker."

With his heartbeat racing and cold sweat covering his body, Alistair sat up in his shared tent. He shook his head to clear away the brain fog of just waking from a vivid, intense dream.

 _What a dream._ He tried to make sense of it. _Was it real? Was Gwen real? Was Mihna real? If, so, she's said she's trying to cure the taint. But how?_

 _Gwen. Maker's breath, is she alright?_ He fumbled around in the dark for his boots.

"What is it, Alistair?" Solas sat up next to him, conjuring a globe of blue-green that illuminated their small shared tent. His expression bore concern.

Winching at the sudden light, Alistair put his hand up to his eyes to shade them. His voice was gritty from just waking and he whispered lowly. "Just… shaken from a strange dream.. I'm fine otherwise."

"I'm somewhat of an expert on travels in the Fade. I may be able to help you make sense of what you saw."

"Perhaps another time, it's still all jumbled in my head." Alistair gave the elf a thankful smile. "I need to—"

From outside the tent came a thin, trembling voice. "Alistair? Are you awake?"

"Yes."

Gwen spoke again, attempting to keep her composure. "May I come in?"

Alistair looked to Solas who nodded and stood to lift the tent flap. Silhouetted by the firelight, Gwen stood just outside, shaking as she took a few steps into the tent.

Despite just waking, Solas spoke with his usual crisp, clear voice. "Inquisitor." When he saw her pale face, his tone changed and he tilted his head in concern. "Are you well?"

She nodded, her gaze falling to the Warden, then back to Solas. "Can you give us a moment, please?"

"Of course. I'll check on Cassandra." He lowered the flap and walked away.

Alistair rose and his brow furrowed when he saw how upset she was.

_Poor thing, she's terrified._

Glancing away for a moment, he made up his mind and held an arm out, summoning her to him with a simple hand motion. Gratefully, Gwen shot forward to embrace him tightly.

The man brought his arms around her and despite his own objections, ran his hand soothingly over her loose hair.

_It's soft … Maker's breath, I should stop doing this to myself._

Moments later, a flurry of questions spilled out of Gwen's mouth, breaking him from his thoughts. Her arms locked around his midsection and pulled him closer. "Was that _real_? Did we dream… together? What happened to Mihna? Do you think she's alright?"

He closed his eyes as contentment washed over him and spoke softly. "Shh, it was a dream, nothing more. You're safe; I'm sure Mihna is safe, and will be when she wakes."

"Is this what you endure every night?" Gwen loosened her grip and looked up at him, her eyes sullen with sympathy.

_She pities me, now. Wonderful._

"Not every night." _Most times it's worse than that._

"I wouldn't believe it were possible, if we hadn't just experienced it… Maker, we were conscious in the Fade, Alistair. _Together._ " She sighed, beginning to calm down, her pragmatism taking over for panic, her hands moving onto his chest to fidget with his shirt. Shortly after she realized what she was doing, her actions stopped and she pulled away.

"So it seems, though I have—"

"This shouldn't be possible." She cut him off and began to ramble, pacing the tent. I admit I'm not as learned as some in matters of the Fade. This subject has never come up in my studies."

"As I was trying to say: I have experienced something like this before… with Mihna."

"Truly?" Gwen responded, astonished. "Tell me. No, wait a moment."

She burst out the door, returning a few moments later with her journal. Alistair smiled at her fervor and quirky need to write everything down.

_Maybe the writing helps her deal with… things. It could help me, perhaps._

"So, when did this happen before?" Gwen asked eagerly.

"During the Blight, at Kinloch Hold." His eyes grew intense as he surfaced the memory. "There was a Sloth demon who forced us into the Fade."

The woman scribbled furiously as he retold the story. Once she was satisfied with her notes, a weary Gwen bid Alistair goodnight and found her tent.

Alistair laid down on his bedroll, staring at the ceiling, trying to make some sense of what had happened and calming his thoughts for a return to sleep.

_Clear your head… What did Mihna mean? And Gwen… what's her part in this? Did I just dream of her because she's been on my mind of late?_

Solas returned to their shared tent a short while after the Inquisitor had left. He entered silently, but when he heard the Warden thrashing about, he spoke into the darkness. "May I assume by your movement, that you are yet awake?"

The Warden sighed. "I can't just lay my head down on the pillow like the rest of you. It takes time to focus on sleep, which is what I'm trying to do right now."

Solas perked his ears up and questioned him. "Gwen mentioned that you were experiencing a _lapse_ in your usual restless sleep."

With a furrowed brow Alistair turned to the elf. "I can sleep better when she's near, it's true, though it only seems to work when we sleep… close to one another."

"How _convenient_ for you." Solas laughed lightly, situating himself on his bedroll opposite the Warden.

Gruffly, Alistair responded. "Yes... Well, I just figured it out myself. It didn't work at Caer Bronach, so I thought that the first time in the smuggler's cave was just a chance occurrence. Though, at the Keep, I took my quarters in forward tower and hers were in the rear."

"Interesting."

"I'll have you know that it's working now, I think, even though she's a tent away. Anyway, this dream was different... not a normal Warden nightmare, so no need to worry that I'll go seeking her company after you fall asleep in order to appease my bad dreams."

With a forced nonchalance, he responded, "Our Inquisitor is capable, I'm sure she can protect herself should the need arise."

"I agree." Alistair's eyes narrowed at him in the dark and he began to rise, grabbing his pack and making his way to the tent flap. "Well, I can't sleep, so I may as well give Cassandra a break."

The mage's voice called to him and his magelight lit the tent with a sea-green glow. "Wait. I apologize for eavesdropping but, did you imply that you were lucid in your dream when you spoke with the Inquisitor?"

He turned to Solas before exiting, his brows still wrinkled. "Yes... and Gwen shared the dream with me, along with another person, I think. The memory is sort of fading."

"Dream-sharing _is_ rare, unless…" Solas paused, his expression became pensive and he touched his chin. "Let us speak again when we reach Skyhold."

"At Skyhold then."

The elf gave a small nod and Alistair stepped out into the cold air, away from the strange elf.

After sending the Seeker to bed, his mind retreated to his dream again. As he strolled over to the canvas canopy serving as their makeshift stable he rubbed the nose of his own chocolate brown Taslin as he processed his thoughts.

Later, while sitting by the fire, he pulled out his leather-bound journal, a pen, and a small inkwell, placing them on stump next to him. An hour went by before he finished writing all he could remember from the dream and then he tucked the words away for another time and place.

* * *

 

xXXXx

 

Another day of swift travel brought the pack of sore and cranky companions to the night's camp. Between the varied conversations of her companions, the Inquisitor turned her thoughts inward to the dream from the night before. She had promised Alistair that she would not to speak of it with the others and so, she was left on her own to work the thoughts into a solid theory in her mind.

Undoubtedly, she was first in Alistair's dream. The boy proved that, as she had no foreknowledge of him when young. The second part of the dream was still a mystery and it could have been either Mihna's dream or Alistair's. The frightening thing was that all three were aware of the dream, though Alistair seemed confused about the sequence. He wasn't a mage though, and that could account for it.

Another thread of thought emerged as she ran over the memory in her head: Alistair's touch of tenderness after she fell from the tree onto him. She pushed away from him before anything could happened, but it still caused a doubt in her mind. Could he care for her as she did him? Was he so unencumbered in his dream state, that he allowed himself the freedom to touch her, perhaps even kiss her willingly? And then there was the revelation that he grew up as an orphan, never knowing his noble father. What was the mystery there and should she even devote thought to something he asked her not to pursue?

As she processed her thoughts on her ride, she withdrew from her companions, focusing on solving the puzzles. Keeping a full and steady journal, she was ready to confront Alistair with her theories once they'd reach Skyhold. Focusing on the dream kept her mind from wandering too far into the bliss of the kiss that she and Alistair shared, and for that she was eternally grateful.

 

.

 

Gwen found it best to retire as soon as dinner was served or suffer the wrath of Hawke and his vulgar ranting about the trip or his tender body parts. Ducking into her tent she found Cassandra had already bedded down for the night, but was reading with a small oil lamp next to her head.

As she rolled out her own bedroll, smiling over to her only female companion. "That must be quite the story."

With a snort and a low laugh, she responded, "You have _no_ idea. Have you never read this?"

Gwen glanced at the cover, revealing a ruddy haired woman carrying a sword and shield. The title, incidentally read "Swords and Shields" and on the back page was a portrait of their dear Dwarven companion, surrounded by beautiful women. She rolled her eyes. "No, I haven't had the time. What is the allure?"

"Oh dear. I couldn't begin to tell you. I'll let you borrow the first book after we get back to Skyhold."

"Alright." The Inquisitor gave an unconvincing nod and began peeling her outer layers of clothing off before settling down under a thick woolen blanket.

Cassandra cleared her throat and began to speak nervously as she rolled onto her side to face Gwen. "May I ask you a personal question, Inquisitor?

She rolled over to her side, facing the warrior. "Of course, though, call me Gwen when you do. There's no sense in using that title when we're speaking casually."

"Only when we're speaking casually then… Gwen."

The mage smiled at her and waited for the question.

"Are you and Alistair…" She fumbled with the words. "Is there something between the two of you?"

"No, unfortunately." She sighed sadly, shrugging.

"But you're interested in him, and he in you?"

Gwen rolled onto her back again, lowering her tone. "To be honest, I don't know. But for the sake of consistency, we're only friends."

"But you two make a fine pairing. I think you should pursue him." The Seeker nodded and rolled onto her back as well, staring up to the shadows cast on the tent roof. "I can see that he fancies you, so something must be holding him back."

Gwen turned to Cassandra, her eyebrows lifting with amusement. "How can you tell he fancies me? You've been observing us?"

The Seeker's face reddened and she shot a worried glance at her tent mate. "No! Well, I'm always observing _everything_ , so I suppose I was."

A few silent moments passed and she continued her interrogation of Gwen.

"I can see it in the way his eyes soften when your gazes meet, and the way he tenses when you touch him."

Gwen was unconvinced. "Couldn't that simply mean he doesn't want me to touch him?"

Cassandra shook her head and laughed softly. "No. I see the same thing on the training yards with the new recruits: they hold back for fear of their errant movements. He is holding himself back. Also, he watches you intently when you aren't paying attention."

"I don't think those things are ideal examples of his affection."

"Trust me; there is more in his heart than he is letting on."

Gwen sighed, wincing painfully at the notion.

"Please, stop me if I'm breaching a sore subject." Cassandra lifted her eyes to the roof and continued. "That man in the cave: you loved him... and lost him at the Conclave?"

"Yes." Gwen furrowed her brows in confusion.

The warrior's voice became soft. "Maker's breath. I'm... not very good at this, am I?"

"We all need to start somewhere." The mage sent her a small grin.

Cassandra began again. "I met a man, ages ago. We were from different worlds and we both knew that those worlds were dangerous to cross, but we... fell in love. He was the only man I have ever loved… and he was at the Conclave too." She lay a hand across her brow, rubbing her temples and covering her eyes.

Turning to look at Gwen wistfully, she continued. "We were such an unlikely pair, both driven and stubborn. I pray to the Maker that I will see justice for his death at the end of this. But..." She sat up slowly, placing her elbows on her knees, her hand brushing a tear across her cheek once before she turned slowly to face the mage. "To feel love again, to be given a second chance for romance in this weary world, I would not falter. _You_ should not falter."

"I had no idea you shared my loss so exactly. I'm sorry."

"It is not something I tell many people, Gwen."

"Thank you for sharing it with me." The Inquisitor breathed deeply.

Cassandra gave her a half smile. "Thank you for listening. It feels somewhat cathartic to speak of him again."

"Would you like to tell me more about him? I'd love to hear and I'm not quite ready to sleep."

The Seeker reclined herself to lie on her back again, placing her book in her pack as she spoke with an emotional whisper. "I think I would like that very much."

 

…

_18 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_Lake Camp, After nightfall_

_Personal Journal_

 

_Oh, Maker. There are times when I know the right things to say to people, when my 'noble training' comes in handy, but today when Cassandra revealed to me that she was in love… with a mage… and that he died at the Conclave, I was rendered near speechless._

_Her exterior is tough, solid, unbreakable, and despite our constant company, I know her the least of all my companions._

_I know her movements in a fight and I trust her with my life, but personally I know barely anything._

_When she spoke to me about Alistair, the desperation in her voice was saddening. I'm going to scour the countryside until I find someone worthy of her, even if it takes me an age._

_We talked for a while about Galyan. I think I would have liked him. She laughed at times, but there was a layer of sadness over everything. All the more reason I should help her._

_Our travels have been swift thus far. Tomorrow we move up into the high Frostbacks and will need to don more appropriate clothing. Even now the cold seeps under my blanket to chill me._

_I should have given more thought to Hawke's idea of all piling into one tent… I thought he was just being lewd again, but the shared body heat would keep us all warm._

_I'm tired and my words are getting sloppy._

_Two more days._


	13. Home Again, Home Again

xXXXx

 

Solas led the way through the mountains, just as he had on their first arrival to Skyhold, his eyes focused with determination. Gwen rode behind him, watching him steer the horse gracefully on the crooked, rocky path.

Little was said between the small band during their last push to make it home before nightfall; everyone was exhausted. They had been on the road for days and unanimously, each traveler opted for a warm bed rather than attempt to make camp in the gently falling snow.

The evening air was cold and Gwen sat shivering on her horse even with a thick blanket draped over her shoulders. Silently though, she thanked the Maker for the chill to keep her from falling asleep at the reins. Traveling an unknown path at dusk was dangerous and she on rode with forced alertness, sparing glances behind her every so often to count the four shadowed figures riding with her.

.

After sundown hours later, the silhouette of the keep rose from the dimly lit landscape, its lights speckled on the horizon welcoming them. Gwen picked up the pace, riding ahead of her troupe as she came to the bridge, the last step of their journey.

With renewed fervor, Gwen guided the horse into a quick canter, eager to cross the threshold of her home. The Commander waited at the portcullis with a handful of soldiers and stable hands and extended his arm to wave her in, as she pulled up to his side.

"Welcome home, Inquisitor." Cullen's lips curled into a smile and he held out his hand to help her dismount.

Placing her hand into his grip, she swung her leg over the horse, glancing backwards as the rest of the group trotted to a halt.

Alistair was the first to speak and he chuckled, dismounting his horse in one swift movement, leading the reigns to the outstretched hands of a man standing beside Cullen. "Maker, Gwen, a little impatient?"

In the torchlight, she blushed and pulled her hand from Cullen's, his eyes narrowing at the man behind her and his use of casual names with the Inquisitor.

She dared to glance up, finding his eyes on her again as a blush crept up to her cheeks. "I've been gone from this place for far too long."

Cullen chuckled. "Nearly three weeks this time?"

Smiling kindly to him, she responded. "I'm truly glad to be home."

"I see you've brought some _new_ recruits." The Commander's smile dropped and he let out a short harrumph.

"Yes… Cullen, you, uh, remember Hawke, right?" Gwen sighed as she turned awkwardly to Hawke, who took a couple steps to stand next to Gwen. His arms were crossed and eyes were squinted in a scowl.

The Commander grumbled. "Yes, how could I forget the maniac of Kirkwall? We didn't have a proper reunion when last you came to Skyhold before you were off again. You always were a bit… flighty."

Hawke took a split second to look Cullen up and down, then bit back. "Ooo, did the _Lion_ grow a pair over the years?" The rogue narrowed his appraising eyes at the Commander. "Really rising up in the world, aren't you?" He scoffed at the ex-Templar and gazed sideways at his dwarven friend. "At least the woman who holds your leash is _sane_ this time."

Cullen let out a light growl and clenched his fists at his side, as his features grew fierce. "Come closer and say that to my face," he managed, through gritted teeth.

" _Boys."_ Gwen intervened as Hawke stepped closer, putting herself between them and laying a light hand on the rogue's chest. "We're all allies here. Take it to the sparring grounds if you want to attack one another." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair back slowly away with Cassandra . They began unpacking their belongings from the horses.

Cullen interjected, pointing an accusing finger at the rogue. "He'd never fight fair."

" _Fair_ should be the least of your concerns on the court: You could barely keep up with me in Kirkwall and the years haven't been kind to you." Hawke sneered.

Gwen used her Inquisitor's voice as she interrupted their seething. "Enough! You're grown men, for Maker's sake. Don't ruin my homecoming with this childishness. You're as bad as Varric and Cassandra." Exasperated, she glanced at Varric who sheepishly looked to the ground as he stood next to his friend.

"Forgive my outburst, Inquisitor." Cullen was the first to respond and he backed away, still visibly tense. "It won't happen again."

Hawke raised his eyebrows and leaned down to whisper to Gwen with a dark smirk. "He's right, you know. I wouldn't fight fair." The rogue's eyes stared venomously at the ex-Templar as he walked away to aid his soldiers with unloading packages.

The mage shook her frustrated head and shoved Hawke away from her hurriedly, before she turned to direct the soldiers.

Varric clapped his friend on the back. "Let's get you to the tavern… and out of Curly's way... Should be quieter tonight without Bull." He snorted out a laugh.

"For a spell. But shit, I'm tired, Varric. And sore." The tall rogue pulled his pack from the horse, slung it over his back and walked slowly toward the tap house, the dwarf taking a comfortable place at his side.

Cassandra had handed her reins to the nearest stable hand and pulled her pack from the horse as the argument between the Commander and Hawke arose. Since that time, she waited patiently to speak with Gwen, tapping her fingers on her crossed arms as she stood.

The Seeker saw her moment and interrupted Gwen's unpacking, coming to stand next to her as the mage pulled another pack from one of the horses. "Inquisitor, if you'll excuse me, I'm eager to rest and relax in my own bed. I will bring a parcel by your room tomorrow..." Trailing off, she raised an eyebrow and lowered her chin in a slow nod.

Gwen nodded back, understanding. "Yes, _of course,_ Cassandra," She leaned in to whisper a response, "I can't wait to begin reading it."

"Goodnight then, I shall see you tomorrow." With that, Cassandra smiled and left, walking swiftly away from the small gathering, through the gate to the courtyard, intent on making her way to her quarters as quickly as possible.

Gwen chuckled as the Seeker picked up her pace on the stairs, feeling the same eagerness for her own bed and the privacy of her quarters.

The mage and her two remaining companions, Solas and Alistair, stood in the entryway, pulling the last of the packs and belongings off the horses, as the stable hands took each Taslin away. Soldiers were laden with the supplies and instructed by Gwen where to put each pack.

"Steady with that one." She pointed to a bundled pack being hoisted by a soldier. His face rose in question and Gwen responded. "Yes, the long one. Those are new weapons and should be taken to the Undercroft for inventory and maintenance."

"Wait, and that one there: please be careful!" She pointed with a stern look to another soldier, burlier than the others. "Those are my notes, maps, and correspondences for my advisors. Do _not_ misplace or damage them in any way, please." He lifted the bag with a little too much enthusiasm for Gwen and she rushed to his side, reaching for the pack. "Here, I can take them myself."

A smirk began to grow on Alistair's face as he watched her for a few minutes. Fully grinning, he closed in and reached out to touch Gwen's shoulder. She attempted to pull the heavy leather satchel of parchment into her arms, with little success.

"The papers will be fine, Gwen. Give the poor man a break." He jibed.

Ending her assault on the pack and the soldier, she responded, "They are not just _papers,_ Alistair. They're very important to me. I put a lot of time and effort into organizing them, so I'd like to make sure they're taken care of properly."

The pair began a light bickering, which caught the eye of Cullen, who finished directing the remaining soldiers to take the supplies to the correct locations at the keep.

Seeing his comrades leaving with packs slung over their shoulders, the burly soldier broke in, his voice clear and strong. "I'll make sure they get safely to the Ambassador's office straight away, Inquisitor. You have my word."

"Thank you." She managed to say, as a pink hue crept onto her cheekbones. She nodded slowly to the man carrying the heavy pack and he nodded back.

Gwen released the tension in her shoulders and turned to retrieve her personal pack from the ground.

"Inquisitor." Solas came to her side and his lips thinned into a straight sort of smile. "Would you care to continue your lessons tomorrow morning?"

"I would love it, but I'll see what Josephine has planned for me." She tilted her head in question. "Can I let you know?"

"Of course."

The elf turned to the Warden, speaking in his usual clear voice, despite the sensitive subject matter. "I shall be free most of the day tomorrow, Alistair, if you'd like to discuss your dream in greater detail."

Alistair nodded to him with furrowed brows and turned to see a curious Gwen silently questioning him. "Yes, I told him." He whispered to her.

With a twitch of a devious smirk, Solas gave them both a bow, bid them farewell, and turned on his heel to stroll up the stone stairs.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Gwen began to speak. "Why didn't you tell me Solas was involved? I could have discussed it with him on the trip!"

She stepped closer to him, her face awash with suspicion. Her voice came out in a low whisper. "Are you keeping something from me?"

Alistair's eyes closed briefly and he dropped his head ungracefully. "Solas thinks the dream was more than just a run-of-the-mill Grey Warden nightmare, but I didn't want to worry you with it." He trailed off, turning away from her to fumble in his pack.

With a loud clang, the portcullis lowered for the night and Gwen snapped her attention away from the Warden for a moment. Cullen stood with arms crossed, peering thoughtfully at Alistair as the man rummaged through his pack.

Gwen paced around the Warden with her back to the Commander as she bit her thumb in concern. Her eyes drew back to Alistair and her thoughts returned to his troubles, until she caught sight of the leather bound journal he held in his hand. A tender expression reclaimed her face as the gift she gave him last week was placed gently into her hand.

He rose and spoke softly to her. "I bookmarked the second entry. Perhaps you'll have some additional insight since you were there too."

"That was easy." Gwen smiled as she took a step closer to him.

Alistair scoffed playfully. "What good would it do to keep it to myself? I'd only waste time and thought on it, which by the way, are in short supply at the moment."

"I suppose that's fair." She nodded appreciatively, then spoke without thinking. "So, when do you want to discuss it? I have questions..."

Alistair coughed, glancing to see the Commander move behind Gwen. Silence ensued as they both remembered they were not alone.

Cullen broke the silence, and walked over to the pair, calling out to the man. "Do you remember me, Warden?"

Alistair straightened to look at the man standing before him and nodded curtly. "To be honest, at first I didn't. But during that argument with Hawke, I saw the man I met years ago at Kinloch." He moved away from Gwen, but not too far, and extended his arm to the Commander. "Well met, Cullen. I'd heard from Gwen that you were commanding the Inquisition forces. It's good to see you again and… in better health."

The two men stood facing one another, forearms embraced in the formal Ferelden greeting. Cullen stood barely taller but Alistair had broader shoulders and both had warrior's bodies: lean and muscular from training, wearing armor, and carrying heavy weapons. Alistair held his head high with poise and smiled kindly to the ex-Templar. Cullen's eyes were humble and his demeanor wavered from his normal composure.

Cullen took the man's arm in a firm grip before releasing him. "Good to… ah... see you too." His words trailed off and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Leliana should be down any moment. She's been waiting to see the Inquisitor for days, no jest. She should be ecstatic that the both of you are here." He let out a chuckle, covering his uneasiness by the change of subject.

A dark figure leaned against a shadowed stone wall in the entryway, yet unseen. At the mention of her name, she walked into the light of the torches, removing her hood to reveal the comely, red-haired rogue. "Perfect introduction, Commander."

Gwen's eyes lit up and she spun around to greet her Spymaster, their four hands clasping between them, as they exchanged warm greetings. The welcome turned into a hugging embrace and as they broke away, they spoke in low tones, the rogue's eyes darting out to see Alistair's familiar smile.

"And there _he_ is." Leliana held her hand to him, moving to acknowledge him as well. "Alistair. It's been too long, my friend."

He leaned in as the rogue placed a kiss on his cheek. "Yes, Leliana. I daresay, you haven't aged one day since I last saw you."

The rogue waved a wild hand, dismissing his compliment, but smiled brightly nonetheless. " _You_ on the other hand have certainly changed." She circled him, appraising him with a wrinkled brow before whispering. "You've grown up."

"And quite well, I might add." She leaned to Gwen, whispering loud enough for them both to hear. Returning to her sweet voice, she continued, "We have catching up to do, Alistair."

As the old friends spoke, the Commander came to Gwen's side and she turned to him. "So, it's _Gwen,_ is it?" Cullen sent her an amused glance, if not somewhat annoyed. "That's quite informal of the Grey Warden."

Rolling her eyes, she responded to his weakly veiled inquiry of the nature of her relationship with Alistair. "I call you Cullen _and_ Commander." She quipped. "What's the difference?"

"So, you're saying that anyone may call you Gwen?"

She stuttered. "Um… Sure. Any person in my inner circle, of course."

"Hm." With Cullen's bravado returning, his hand found his chin and he swaggered away, calling out behind him. "If you should require me, _Gwen,_ I will be in my office for the rest of the night."

"Goodnight, Cullen," She droned out, hoping her tone would impede any further attempts at flirtation.

"Gwen, come here." The bard called the mage over, a hum in her voice as she crooned. "We all have catching up to do, so we will all have tea together while you're both here."

In a modest response, she agreed. "That sounds lovely."

"Also, I can see that Alistair is quite tired. Would you take him to his room?"

"I'm not really—Isn't that Josephine's duty?" The Inquisitor whispered through a smile, but nevertheless Leliana dropped a brass key into her hand.

Speaking to Alistair, the bard turned. "Normally, this is the job of our Ambassador, but she has already retired for the night. I told her I would take care of it, but I can see that Gwen is much more capable than myself." Leliana winked so subtly that Gwen squinted in the dark light, unsure if there ever was a wink to begin with, when another one flashed across the rogue's eye.

An uneasy smile spread on the Inquisitor's face. "Of course, it's no trouble. Where will he be staying?"

"In the guest quarters above the garden. The second room has clean linens and a fire burning on the hearth."

Nodding once, Gwen laid a hand on her friend's forearm. "Thank you, Leliana."

"You're welcome, Gwen." The redhead turned to walk away, stopping before she could make it two steps. "Have a good night. I'll see you at the morning debriefing. Meet us just after dawn; we have a rather full day ahead." Another subtle wink snapped across her eye, then she was off, silently creeping up the stairs to the upper courtyard.

"I wanted to sleep in!" She called out behind the rogue.

"You've been gone near a month and there are things you need to be apprised of." Leliana retorted, before continuing her graceful ascent to the upper courtyard.

The Inquisitor grumbled unintelligibly and took a deep breath. Upon exhaling she turned to the man next to her, who seemed dazed. "Is everything alright?"

Laughing and snapping to attention, he picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "What a welcoming party: Cullen and Leliana, plus a dozen soldiers and servants. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed, honestly. Is it always like this?"

"It can be worse actually. We're lucky we arrived after dark." She stifled a yawn before she could continue on. "Sometimes the folks stand on the battlements with their spyglasses on the day of my supposed arrival, watching for me. When they finally see me coming from far off, they alert the rest of the Keep. The crowds can get unwieldy."

"Yes, I imagine so," he responded through a laugh.

Alistair picked up her pack, adding it to his own over his shoulder. "Shall we?"

With a nod, she led them up the stairs and onto the landing. They took a few steps into the courtyard and Gwen stopped them, gazing over to him as he held his head high, craning it around to see the expanse of the fortress.

"The days ahead will be busy, but I can take some time to show you around if you like." She smiled at him with tired eyes.

"I'd like that."

Unthinking, her words came out before she could retract them. "It's a date, then."

Gwen immediately blushed. "What I meant was—"

Alistair chuckled, averting his eyes. "I know what you meant."

In silence, they walked through the courtyard, eyes shifting left and right to see few people mingling with one another. Some nodded, others addressed Gwen with respect, using her title. She cleared her throat, taking a few more steps toward a set of ascending stairs.

He lifted his eyes to her. "So, if we're going to be here for a few days, I'll need something to do."

Sending him a sly grin, she jibed to ease her former embarrassment. "You can launder your clothes, for one."

"Ha. Ha."

"You can repair your weapons in the Undercroft, and I can requisition another gambeson for the one that was torn by the wolves. I can requisition anything you need, actually. Make me a list."

His lips thinned and he nodded. "Will I… see you? Or should I leave it with someone else?"

Gwen stopped on the first stair for a moment, his words reminding her of her duty and what it would mean for them in the next few days. "Things are going to be a bit hectic tomorrow and I just want to _prepare_ you."

His brows formed the familiar wrinkle and raised his eyes to meet her sage-green stare. "For what?"

Leading them up the stairs, she continued on with her warning. "There are many people who need to see me and things I need to do… and I fear it's going to change how you see me."

"I'll see only you, Gwen." His eyes narrowed at her back for a moment before he looked ahead to the double doors.

Remarking boldly, she stopped short on the stair and turned to him, matching his height on the step above him. "Just don't forget that I'm the person you skinned wolves with, the one who nearly had a mental breakdown at Caer Bronach, and the delirious one who made a fool of herself in a flooded cave as she kissed you. I'm still Gwen, but here most know me only as the Herald of Andraste or the Inquisitor."

"I won't forget." His words were simple and sincere and lips curled into a tender smile.

Striding quickly up the stairs, the couple reached the main hall and together opened the large double doors, shutting them after they were through.

The main room was lit with two hearths on either side of a long corridor and the warm glow felt inviting as they stepped lightly into the empty hall. Making their way past the parallel fireplaces, they came to a heavy wooden door with no lock. Reaching her hand out, Gwen pulled it open.

Glancing behind her, she saw the Warden open his mouth to speak and she put a finger on her lips to shush him. They walked up the stairs silently and tiptoed across the balcony. Alistair heard the rhythmic sound of someone breathing and quickened his pace behind Gwen. Once they were outside again, she shut the door gently behind her.

"Who was sleeping in there?"

"Another of my people, a circle mage named Vivienne. She, um, keeps to herself mostly."

"How can she keep to herself _and_ be one of your people?"

"We don't always see eye to eye. But she is content to stay here at Skyhold while I'm out and about. I rarely have to worry about us feuding unless I seek her out. Or she seeks me out." She lowered her voice and drew closer to him. "I suspect that she's delighted that she gets to be part of the Inquisition without getting her hands dirty."

"Ah. Yes."

They strolled down the veranda overlooking the dark gardens below. Gwen ran her hand along the cold stone balustrade as she spoke. "It's not that I dislike her; don't misread me. We share some of the same core beliefs about the Circle and agree that they're necessary, but… she's elitist and she reminds me of my Mother: refined, uptight, and outspoken. Though, my mother is a noble, and I don't think Vivienne is, no matter how hard she pretends to be. Not that it would matter, her being a mage."

Alistair cocked his head and turned his eyes to her in confusion. "You're a noble?"

She nodded. "My father is a Bann in the Free Marches. I'm the second youngest of five."

The man was taken aback. "You never mentioned this before."

"Was there ever a need?" Pivoting to face him, she stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and huffed lightly before continuing to walk down the veranda. With Alistair following, she spun around as she spoke, her Inquisitorial composure dropping in his private company as it had over the last few weeks. "I'm a _mage_ , Alistair. No one will marry me and I can't hold a title or land. I was sent to the Circle at age ten and only able to visit my family on weekends once a month, _with_ a Templar escort. And that was only because my father had sway and loved me despite what I am. I enjoyed my time away from the circle, and I truly love my family, but once a month was enough to know that I wanted nothing to do with being a noble."

"I... can understand that. Except, now you _do_ have a title and you have this: Skyhold." He waved his hand about jokingly and cast his eyes all around them as they both stopped at the corner of the walkway.

Leaning back with elbows on the parapets, she sighed. "Skyhold isn't mine; it's all of ours. And being Inquisitor is something I _have_ to do because of this." She held out her left hand, pulling the leather glove off by the fingertips.

They stood close in the low light, peering down to Gwen's hand, the crack in her palm flickering at its fresh exposure. A sullen look crossed the Inquisitor's face before she closed her fist and tucked it in the pocket of her jacket, searching for the key to the guest room.

Holding it out to him, she spoke with a whisper, nodding to the door a few feet from them. "Here you are."

Alistair reached out to take the bronze key and his fingers brushed her palm. Her eyes shot up to his and their hands lingered in their touch. In haste, he smiled clumsily and lifted the key away.

With obvious reluctance, he pivoted and walked to face the door with his back to the Inquisitor.

He turned the key in the lock and pressed door ajar, but halted. "So, laundry and the Undercroft wherever that may be."

"You may do whatever you wish Alistair. Consider this a vacation: eat, drink, and do try to be merry."

"Will I see you at all?"

Gwen smiled back at him, forcing her thoughts to the business of the Inquisition in the days to come. With a solemn voice she answered, "I'll find you when I can."

Alistair nodded and watched her back away with a smile. "Goodnight, Gwen."

"Goodnight, Alistair."

The Warden took a step towards her, calling out as she stopped. "Wait. Perhaps I should walk you to your room."

Pointing to the large balcony at the top of the castle, she beamed and responded. "It's just back the way we came, then up to the top of that tower; I'll be fine, but thank you."

"As always, I do try to be a gentleman."

"The action isn't lost on me. I might even take your offer, but I know we both need rest." Gwen stepped toward him and dug into her bag, placing a small parcel in his hands, winking slyly as she continued to speak. "I nearly forgot: this is for tonight's snacking urges."

The Warden's smile grew to a grin and he watched her walk backwards away from him, for good this time. Then hesitantly, she turned her back and left him, walking as swiftly as her feet could move, in case she should get the urge to go back to him to continue conversing.

.

Skyhold was silent as she descended the stairs and passed through the warm main hall. Climbing the staircase into her inner chamber, she broke into a run, taking two steps at a time until she reached the top. As she opened the door slowly, she sighed with contentment.

The room was just as she had left it and there was a welcoming fire burning on the hearth. She strolled around the room and smiled, remembering moments before she left for Crestwood. Moving to her desk, she saw that the drawing of Alistair was still laid out atop his file. Brushing her thumb over his lips, she remembered the kiss again. Then dismayed, she pushed the drawing back into the envelope and sighed deeply.

She walked out onto the windy balcony and remembered the last time she stood there, she was wishing she were more of a leader to the people. Thoughts moved to Edmund again and subconsciously she pulled the pendant from beneath her armor, the metal still warm from resting against her skin.

Holding it in her hand, she spoke softly. "You're gone; I know it this time. I miss you, your confidence and strength, but I can do this on my own now. I know I can. I have new friends and allies. Rest now, forever, dear friend."

A tear left her eye and fell down her cheek. She reached behind her neck to release the chain's clasp, and Edmund's pendant fell into her hands. In a tight grip, she held it, turning back to her door.

Gwen paused before she crossed the threshold and curiously turned to look down from the balcony. Under a half moon, there stood the Grey Warden, leaning over the torch-lit balustrade staring into the dark garden below. Impulsively, she whistled and his head turned abruptly as he straightened and gave her a casual wave. She waved back, and afterward they both walked away from the cool air of night, into their respective rooms.

Tucking the pendant away in the drawer with her underthings, she let loose a huge yawn and began disrobing, placing the clothes in a basket by the foot of her bed.

The Inquisitor barely crawled under the thick, burgundy coverlet adorning her new four-poster bed, before her eyes closed and she drifted deeply into the Fade.


	14. All Work and No Play: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some overlapping of time and of perspectives (Gwen and Alistair) in this chapter, differentiated by the headings. I hope you don't find it too confusing.

xXXXx

 

"Good morning and welcome home, Inquisitor." The Ambassador's eyes traveled up and down Gwen's body, inspecting her closely while tapping her fingers on her desk in thought.

"Thank you, Josephine," Gwen returned, arching an eyebrow at her as she walked into the vestibule leading to the War Room. She ran a hand through her damp, limp locks self-consciously and pulled her beige 'official Inquisitor under armor' straighter, attempting to smooth out its wrinkles. Turning her attention back to Josephine, she noted to herself that the woman clearly had too much time on her hands, as she had the entire contents of the pack from Crestwood laid out in neat piles on the top of her desk.

"How productive of you. What time did you wake this morning?"

"Early. But, I had an early night." With a bright, wide smile, the Antivan made a sweeping hand motion across her neat desk. "You, Lady Trevelyan, are a woman after my own heart. Well, your organizational skills, at least... These notes are so tidy, complete, and clear, that all I need to do is file them away. No paraphrasing wordy script, no deciphering illegible handwriting, and no masking the doodles in the margins! If everyone did as such, I would have twice as much time on my hands, truly. Now, if only you took the same care with your appearance."

"Perhaps I should make a decree then? Clean, concise notes and reports or the Inquisitor will give you laundry duty." Gwen laughed. "And mind your manners about the way I look. I've been on the road for a few weeks."

"If only the others would listen, I would say you should. Laundry duty would not deter some of them." The Ambassador giggled before returning to her usual noble composure. "Inquisitor, I should not have said such things about your appearance. Please accept my apology and know that I may have a solution to your state of dishevelment."

"There's really no need—"

Josephine cut her off with a disapproving hum and rose from her seat, collecting a thin pile of parchment as she came to stand in front of Gwen.

"We should begin soon, but one thing first: Would you sign these requisition forms? Above your name. You'll have to get your new recruits to sign as well. I've dated them retroactively for the sake of consistency."

Glad for the change of subject, Gwen accepted the pieces of parchment handed to her and read the top one quickly, as there were few words on the page. She'd read the form before, nine times to be precise, but the wording was slightly different.

…

_10 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_By formal request of the Inquisition, I hereby acquire the Grey Warden Alistair, for the duration of the expedition in the area known as Crestwood, Ferelden. At the completion of the expedition, the Inquisition will lend its own forces to the endeavors of this singular Grey Warden and his own expedition in the Western Approach._

_Signed and agreed upon by,_

_Gwendolyn Alexandra Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick, former Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition_

_Signed and agreed upon by,_

_Alistair, Grey Warden of Orlais_

…

Laying the paper on the corner of the desk, she took a pen and dabbed it in an inkwell, writing her full name in a beautiful hand under her printed one. "Do you need to include all of those titles, Josephine? It makes me sound pretentious."

"It is simply a formality for clear documentation. No one will see this besides us."

Gwen looked at the parchment pertaining to Hawke and let out a short laugh. "Hawke's name is Adam?"

"It's a fine name."

"I suppose I've come to think of him by his surname only. Adam just sounds so… normal."

Trailing off, a curious Gwen peered again at Alistair's name printed on the form. "Alistair doesn't use a surname? I never even thought to ask him in our travels."

"Ah. Oddly, I could find none associated with him in his dossier. I made a note to inquire with him at the midday meeting. I can add it later to the print after his signature is written."

"Very good." The Inquisitor nodded sleepily and walked to stand next to the fireplace, resting her elbow against the mantle and leaning heavily upon it. Gazing into the fire, her thoughts slipped into the ether, due to lack of food and sleep. She snapped to the present when her stomach growled and she turned her head suddenly to the Ambassador.

Josephine laughed, motioning to the door behind her. "Go to the War Room. I have fresh fruit, hot coffee, and pastries waiting. Cullen and Leliana should be along shortly and I have a missive to write before we begin."

"Thank you." The Inquisitor bowed slightly on her way past her Ambassador and lightly plodded up the stairs on her way to the opened wicket gate.

.

Gwen's voiced echoed off the high ceilings, as she remarked on the business of Skyhold during her absence. She leaned back in her chair that sat at the head of the War table, sipping a lukewarm cup of black coffee.

"Glad to know that Harding is in position in the Western Approach. I'll take the report and examine it more thoroughly before tomorrow."

Cullen turned in his chair to Leliana. "Iron Bull and his team, they're still in Crestwood, right?"

Leliana answered, standing by the window, gazing out to the garden below. "I received a crow from Dorian two days ago: they should be en route to Skyhold as of yesterday." She gave a small sigh. "They have a prisoner in tow."

The Inquisitor stiffened her spine, bringing a hand to her forehead in embarrassment. "Dear Maker. Who?"

Turning back to the table, the Spymaster took her seat next to Cullen. "The Mayor. Apparently they unearthed some secrets he was keeping and determined that he should be tried for his crimes. I've no doubt Sera was involved."

"I'd reprimand her by pulling her off active duty, if she wasn't such a dead shot." Gwen let out a laugh.

Cullen cut in, a pleading tone to his voice. "Please. I get a _shred_ of peace when she's away. Before she left for Crestwood, she let a half dozen mice loose in my sleeping quarters. Damnable things chewed a hole in my mattress!"

"Commander, a hole in your mattress should be the least of your concerns. You still have yet to allow the roofers to fix the giant hole in your roof, no?" Leliana spoke with a mirth in her voice.

"Yes. Ha. Ha. That dwarf came by a few weeks ago, but I couldn't focus with all the hammering and sawing, so I sent him away." Cullen sighed, rubbing his temples. "It'll get done eventually."

Josephine cleared her throat loudly, bringing them all back to the debriefing. "Continuing on, lest we miss the hot breakfast entirely: where will we send the Inquisitor next?"

The Spymaster piped up again, her demeanor turning serious. "Corypheus is up to something... I agree with Gwen: we should figure out his connection to the Grey Wardens, first and foremost. That means we're heading west."

Josephine interjected, scooting to sit on the edge of her chair. "I agree… to a point, but we must also address his interest in Empress Celene. Our efforts to solidify our reputation have paid off, and this arrived days ago: an invitation from the Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons to attend the peace talks at the Winter Palace in two months." She could barely contain her glee and held up a large golden envelope, tapping it in her hand. "I haven't been to a proper ball in ages."

Gwen blanched and looked to Leliana and Cullen for support. "I don't know about a ball. I haven't been to one since I was a child and I can barely dance!"

Leliana snorted out a laugh. "It's true. I have seen you try. We'd need a month just to train her for the movements alone. Plus, she'd need to be schooled in the finer arts of the Grand Game."

"Nonsense!" The Ambassador trilled. "She's such a quick learner. A week's worth of preparation should be enough. We can begin today if you like!"

As the two other women became enamored by the new subject matter, Gwen looked helplessly to Cullen, who shrugged feebly in response.

" _You're no help_." She mouthed silently to Cullen. The man chuckled and grinned devilishly.

"Ladies, please." Gwen stood up with her hands in the air and the women stopped their ramblings. "Firstly, I promised Alistair our support as soon as we returned from Crestwood, so I'm inclined to head to the Western Approach before this ball. I'm not one to break a vow."

Leliana's face softened and she knowingly smiled at Gwen. "We would not ask you to break such a promise, would we Josie?"

Josephine huffed lightly. "Of course not. I suppose we will have enough time for preparations for the Ball when you return. I will begin the planning immediately and keep you to a tight schedule in that ghastly desert."

"I can live with that." Gwen responded kindly.

Cullen slowly stood beside her, giving her a wink as his voice commanded attention from all three women. "If we're finished, I'd like to have time to actually sit to eat, instead of hastily grabbing food as the dishes are being hauled away. Shall we?" He made a sweeping arm gesture to the door.

Josephine called out to Gwen. "Lady Trevelyan, before you go, I have one more thing to discuss with you, privately."

With a confused expression, Gwen consented. "Alright." She turned to the Commander and Spymaster, shrugging. "You two go ahead. We'll be behind you shortly."

As they left through a small opened wicket gate, Josephine sidled up to her Inquisitor. "One of my favorite dressing maids is up in your room waiting for you."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "It is not that bad, Josephine."

"Oh, _but it is._ I was not kidding earlier: you look like you fell out of bed and into the bath this morning, then put on whatever was left in a pile on your floor."

Gwen grinned sheepishly. "I was so tired from the journey! You can't blame a girl for sleeping in, can you?"

"No, but I can blame the Inquisitor. And you must stop wearing those atrocious beige _pijiama_. You act as if we don't give you anything else to wear; your wardrobe is full of clothing!"

Calming herself, Josephine smiled sweetly. "Now, go to your room and enjoy being pampered. Renée is incredible."

Meekly, Gwen replied. "What about breakfast?"

"I will have all of your favorites brought to you as soon as I can."

Gwen sighed and responded in a frustrated voice. "Very well."

Josephine tisked her. "You want to impress your new Grey Warden recruit, don't you?"

Before Gwen could respond to deflate the rumor, the Ambassador cut her off. "Leliana let it slip you have a bit of an infatuation, but your secret is safe with me, I promise. I can do much to help you, if you allow it." She winked kindly at Gwen and led them out of the War Room.

* * *

oOOOo

(Morning, before Breakfast)

 

Alistair made his way down to the dining hall, his stomach making loud complaints in the form of low growls. Gwen's snack had provided a lovely midnight meal, but by the time the sun rose, he was nearly famished.

Reaching the main hall, he saw Solas, sitting alone at one of four long tables with a book in hand. The mage was carefully sipping his tea, with a frown, and waiting patiently for the food to be brought from the kitchens. Few others gathered in the main hall; it was still early. The smell of coffee filled the room and Alistair saw a carafe and teapot sitting on a smaller table, waiting to be partaken. He walked over, filling a mug before bringing it to the table where the elf sat, absorbed in his reading.

"Good morning."

Solas lifted his eyes, nodding politely at Alistair. "And to you."

He took a silent sip from his mug. "Where is everyone?"

Dropping his book to the table ungracefully, he regarded the Warden. "Breakfast will be served shortly, after which, the crowds arrive."

Alistair took a seat across from Solas and steepled his fingers over the mug with his elbows resting casually on the table. "So… Will the rest of our companions be joining us?"

Solas' eyes narrowed. "Perhaps. The Inquisitor rushed through here some time ago. Her advisors followed several minutes after. It could be some time before they all emerge from the debriefing. I do not know the exact whereabouts of our rogue comrades, nor do I quite care. I'm enjoying the peaceful morning for once."

Sitting back in his chair, the warrior sighed. "I'm not used to being alone. I much prefer the noise of the Hawke and Varric to silence."

"If I were to guess, I'd say they are enjoying a liquid breakfast at the tavern across the keep; seek them there if you desire companionship." Solas lifted his book again, flipping back a page before he continued to read.

When the food came out several minutes later, the pair ate in amiable silence. Once Solas had finished, he excused himself, offering to meet Alistair once the Warden had finished his large pile of food. He pointed to the door of the rotunda before he made his quiet departure.

Alistair had just finished eating as Varric, Hawke, and a boy with a large floppy hat walked through the main doors. Waving charismatically, Varric grinned and picked up his feet quickly to greet the Warden.

"Hello there, Lover boy." He grinned as the larger man flinched.

"Varric, must you continue to use that ridiculous nickname?" Alistair warned him, but was stopped short by the young man, who tipped his head up revealing his pale face and large, searching eyes.

The boy spoke in a whisper, his voice delicate like the moaning wind. "Soft, sweet, sick music murmuring; hateful in my mind. I wish it would stop." Cole cocked his head to the side. "But the deep, dark part of him yearns for it."

"What the void?" Alistair tried to step back, but he moved stiffly, the shock paralyzing his feet.

Cole blinked slowly as his words spilled out into air between the small group. "When she nears, he pushes it away, her away, hating it, choking him, surrounding his mind as he tries to see her through thick fog."

"Kid, wait… don't read Alistair. His mind is a kind of a mess." Varric put his hand on Cole's shoulder, but the boy kept speaking as if compelled to say the words.

"A cradled lump of shiny metal, cast aside. Forged into steel and lost in the rubble remains. Lost until she found him and lost again, until _she_ found him, the one too bright to look upon. Growing strength, now nurtured, never again to be forgotten." The words came tumbling swiftly from the blonde boy's mouth until the dwarf pulled him away and sat him down at one of the tables.

Varric walked back to Alistair, but the boy's head tilted eerily and his eyes found the Warden's.

"What _is_ he?" Alistair croaked, still recovering from the onslaught of Cole's clairvoyant rant.

"He's just a kid." Varric snapped. "At least, he wants to be treated like one. You should ask Chuckles if you want more of an explanation than that."

The dwarf then pointed a warning finger at the Grey Warden and former Templar. "Don't bother the kid."

Still unnerved, but respecting Varric's judge of character, Alistair backed away with hands held up in submission. "I'll just... see you later."

.

Flustered, Alistair made his way quickly from the main hall to the rotunda. Upon entering the room, he spun around, his focus shifting to the dramatic paintings adorning the walls around him.

Solas noticed the Warden's entrance and rose from his desk to stand next to the man. As Alistair looked up and down, he attempted to read the pictures and create the story in his mind.

"What do you think?" The elf asked, genuinely interested in the Warden's opinion.

Still gazing at the walls, Alistair answered. "I like it."

Rolling his eyes, Solas walked away to gather a notebook and a few papers from his desk. "Usually those who critique my work are more… verbose."

"What more should I say?" Alistair strolled toward the mage and placed his hands across the width of the desk, while leaning over it.

Solas looked up, slightly irritated, his eyes making it no further than the Warden's new tunic. "Does everything escape your observation?" He gestured to the shirt.

Alistair stared down at the richly made, dark blue linen shirt, brushing away a heavy dusting of flaky crumbs from his six breakfast croissants. The shirt, along with a pair of druffalo hide leather trousers had been delivered in the morning by one of the keep's laundry maids. The Warden had been grateful, knowing his own clothes were in dire need of a good wash.

"Better?" He droned, narrowing his eyes at the elf.

"I suppose." Solas frowned, pushing the crumbs from his desk onto the floor in a single swift stroke.

"Well, I'm here to talk to you." Alistair drummed his fingers on the desk and sneered in jest at Solas. "Thank you so much, by the way, for mentioning it in front of Gwen last night. I didn't tell her you knew about the dream."

"The Inquisitor should be apprised of details of your life that may be causing you harm."

"You think these dreams are harmful?" The nearly panicked words flew out of the Warden's mouth.

"Not necessarily, but I intend to be thorough. Dreams are my specialty."

Alistair nodded glumly. "As you said."

Pointing to the door, Solas added, "Let us retreat into the gardens. I wish to hear everything about the dream and out in the open, the noises of the day will obscure prying ears." The mage's eyes shot upward into the high reaches of the rotunda and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

Lifting his hands from the desk, Alistair followed Solas through the door which led to a spacious garden. The pair found an empty stone bench away from the bulk of the people and began their discussion.

.

In the cool morning air, Alistair retold his full dream to the best of his memory and the elf sat attentive, jotting notes as he spoke. Once finished, the man sat back against the bench and looked up to his comrade with anticipation.

Taking a breath, Solas stared out across the garden, composing his thoughts in his mind as he formed questions for the Warden. "And you're sure you shared this dream with the Inquisitor?"

"Yes, and Mihna." Alistair lowered his voice and leaned toward the elf. "They were both lucid. It did cross my mind, while dreaming, that they could be demons."

Solas narrowed his eyes, frowning. "Or spirits."

Nodding warily, he continued. "Gwen seemed to believe that she wasn't demon or spirit and I took her word; Mihna was very convincing."

"She told me she was in the Deep Roads with other Wardens: they've all heard the Calling and she intends to seek a way to end the damnable thing permanently. I only wish I knew what exactly she meant by it."

Perplexed, Solas responded. "And you've had no other contact with her through dreams or otherwise?"

The Warden ran his hand around the side of his neck in frustration, tugging on his ear absentmindedly as he began to speak. "None. I haven't seen her in person since I initially left Ferelden for Orlais after the Blight. She went to Vigil's Keep as the new Ferelden Commander of the Grey. We corresponded regularly with letters for the first year, but after Amaranthine fell, her correspondences became sparse. Something changed her that year; I know she had to choose between her people and the folk of the city, not an easy choice. I think the city is still under construction in some places."

He took a deep breath and kept speaking to the attentive elf. "The last contact I had with her was a few years ago: it was a vague letter saying she'd gone off on her own, away from the Grey Wardens, but that's it." His face became mired in thought. "I suspect now that she began to investigate the Calling."

The elf queried as he scribbled neat notes in the journal. "Have you ever shared a dream before?"

"Yes Mihna broke me out of a looping nightmare when we were stranded at Kinloch Hold during Uldred's famed usurp."

Alistair cocked his head to a confused Solas and offered a curt explanation. "There was a Sloth demon."

Nodding in understanding, Solas placed his notebook in his lap and tilted his head at Alistair. "What I find truly curious is your apparent consciousness in the Fade. The Inquisitor and Surana are mages and are always connected to it, but you… you shouldn't be able to command your dreams."

"I wouldn't call running for my life from a burning field 'commanding my dreams'." He chuckled.

Solas lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. "You understand my meaning."

"I admit that it's odd, but perhaps it's a fluke because I'm a Grey Warden."

"It is puzzling." Solas furrowed his brow in speculation. "Do you still believe that the proximity to the Inquisitor caused you to have more restful sleep?"

"Yes, but I have no real proof, just my own experiences." Alistair nodded curiously.

Pensive, Solas responded. "The Inquisitor came to me at Caer Bronach, inquiring about the mark. I admit, since then I began to notice the subtle reverberations in my own dreams."

"You think this has something to do with Gwen?" The Warden's face twisted in confusion.

"She, or rather, her mark, may be the crux of the dream sharing." Solas sighed deeply. "I have a few theories, though I would have to test them to be completely sure."

Alistair leaned forward and scooted to the edge of the stone bench they sat upon, his eyes narrowed on the mage. "Tell me."

"The mark connects her to the Fade, we know this. The veil may be thinning around her and drawing those who sleep near her deeper into the Fade. If it is true, it is... disturbing to me."

"Why?"

He sighed tensely. "It means the mark is changing, and at the very worst, beginning to destabilize."

"And that's bad, right?"

Solas nodded slowly.

The Warden's voice came out urgently. "But, you could run those tests or something to know for sure?"

Solas rolled his eyes at the Warden's haste, but spoke in earnest. "I have _methods_ that I could employ."

"Let me help." Alistair implored him.

"There's nothing more to be done at this junct—"

The Warden cut him off. "If this is hurting her, I need to help."

With a sympathetic tone, Solas replied calmly yet insistently, "I say again: There is _nothing_ more that can be done at this juncture." He rose from the bench and took a short step away, turning back only to warn the Warden. "But for now, keep this between the three of us."

Alistair nodded and exhaled deeply, stiffly rising from the bench. "Of course."

* * *

xXXXx

 

The tenth bell sounded and Gwen was still in her quarters, being primped by the Orlesian elven maid. She scurried around the Inquisitor blending the color on the mages eyes as the impatient woman sat on a cushioned stool.

In the time it took the woman to brush and curl her hair, he had read Alistair's account of the dream twice and pondered the meaning behind it. To her surprise and relief, he'd remembered a fair portion of the dream, despite his heightened confusion while they were still in the Fade.

He did not, however, mention the one thing that cropped up in her mind while traveling: his reaction to her when she fell from the tree and landed on him. His hand touched her face, his thumb moved across her lips, and his words were soft and sweet.

A shiver passed over her, causing her shoulders to quake and she pushed the image from her mind.

"Inquisitor, relax." Renée's accented words could hardly be called a scolding, but Gwen stilled herself, apologizing quietly as the woman worked.

With eyes closed, she could do nothing but think and random thoughts flew wildly through her head, most pertaining to the Grey Warden. Desperate to move and find him, she fidgeted under the elven woman's scrutiny until she could take no more.

"Alright, I don't care what I look like, Renée. You're finished; I'm not used to sitting this long. I need to move." She kicked her legs, attempting to stop the tingling sensation.

"Patience. Just a dab more colour here." The elf muttered as she touched the brush again to Gwen's eyelid. Then she stepped back, and cocked her head, her palette of makeup still held loosely in her hand. " _Parfait_."

Standing up to pull off the smock she wore, Gwen caught sight of herself for the first time in a full-length mirror and froze. "You're a genius."

Turning in place to admire her backside, she smiled wickedly. She wore supple, tanned, doe-skin leggings that laced up the sides with dark cording that matched a pair of calf-high boots. A handsome deep blue, leather bodice cinched her waist and accentuated her bust, but was remarkably comfortable and allowed her to breathe. Long sleeves of cream colored cotton adorned her toned arms, and the same fabric peeked out above the bodice. A thin woven, cream-colored scarf wrapped around her neck, and her dark hair was down and done in soft ringlets. Along with darkened eyes, the same blue from her bodice touched her lids, making her sage-green eyes brighten. Her lips were pink and plump.

"I really must go, dear. But thank you."

The elf bowed as she began to tidy the mess in the room. "It was my pleasure! You may call on me anytime, Herald."

Gwen ran her hands through her hair, the feeling quite odd after so many days having it wet, braided in a tight plait, or pulled out of her face haphazardly with a leather cord. She felt liberated and beautiful.

Finding the grey woolen garment draped over the sofa, she clasped it around her neck, pulled the hood over her head. Her leather pack sat on the sofa and she lifted it over one shoulder, making sure her journal and writing supplies were inside before she stepped lightly down the stairs.

The noise of the main hall could be heard through the outer door and the Inquisitor took a deep breath before opening it slowly. She quickly made her way through the hall unnoticed and slid into her Ambassador's office.

Once safely behind the door, she removed her hood and took a timid step toward Josephine who perked up in her chair the moment the Inquisitor arrived.

"Let me look at you." The Antivan woman attempted to control the cheerfulness in her voice as she rounded her desk, her eyes locked on the Inquisitor.

"Stop staring, Josephine."

"You realize you look ravishing, right? Though personally I would have put you in something that showed a little more skin." Winking, she scooped Gwen's hands up in her own, shaking them. "I think your Grey Warden will be pleased."

The mage sighed. "He isn't mine!"

"Not yet." Josephine tilted her head, releasing the other woman's hands. "You must go show him this new you."

"Now?"

" _Yes_ now; before the midday meeting starts. I had to move some of your appointments around your make-over and your afternoon is full. You won't get another chance to speak privately today, I'm afraid."

Gwen flushed. "I'll try to find him."

"Do, and please fill me in on the details later: I'm a hopeless romantic." The Antivan sighed deeply.

"Thank you. I couldn't have accomplished this look without you or Renée. I'm indebted to you both."

"Think nothing of it." Josephine chuckled warmly, shooing her out the door. "We were very happy to help."

Confidence renewed, the Inquisitor braved the crowds on her way to the veranda above the gardens, this time deciding to keep her hood down and greet the people with a warm smile.

.

Gwen arrived at Alistair's room and with a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

Alistair opened it immediately, looked up, and then wavered in surprise at the seemingly new woman before him. " _Maker's breath_."

"Good morning to you too." Gwen smiled as a blush graced her cheeks. "I came to speak with you. May I come in?"

Alistair stepped aside slowly and his eyes moved over her body appreciatively. Closing the door behind them, he stuttered. "Y-yes, of course."

Alistair walked into the spacious, low lit room behind her and watched Gwen's eyes examine its contents, her eyes resting on two large armchairs sitting before the crackling fireplace. "Can we sit?"

Still stunned, he hastily gestured to the chairs. "Of course."

Smirking coyly, Gwen teased him. "What's the matter?"

"You look different. Not a bad different, just—you look very… nice. Sorry." Flustered, Alistair shook his head, apologizing for his rambling.

"Thank you." She gestured to her attire. "This is a such a stark difference from what I looked like on the road. It'll take getting used to for me too, but I like the change."

"Yes… I like it too." Tearing his eyes from her form, he picked up a tray with tea and little cakes on it, safely distracting himself from the newly made-over Inquisitor. "Would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely." Gwen sat, dropping her bag to the floor in front of the armchair. She pulled out her journal and his, and took a seat on the comfortable chair. "I've missed this. I feel like we haven't talked at any great length in days."

He walked around her, placing two cups of tea between them on a small table. "We've been on the road; It's not the ideal place for talking." Alistair took a seat and faced the fire.

"Agreed. Though can we talk about this?" She patted her hand on his leather-bound journal and smiled sweetly.

"You read my account of the dream."

"I did… and it was _mostly_ congruent with my own experiences."

Confused, he furrowed his brow. "Mostly?"

"Well, there are only fragments written from your dream as a young boy."

"I can barely remember it, that's why." He took a sip of tea and added quietly, "Or I don't want to."

Gwen tilted her head, turning her attention to their journals, stacked atop her lap. "You didn't mention the part when I fell onto you in the glade either."

He hummed in thought, searching his foggy memory. "Which part?"

In a near whisper, she answered shyly. "I was on top of you and you touched me."

Alistair's eyes lost focus as he remembered her atop him, having just fallen from the tree. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, _that._ "

"Why did you do it?" She asked quietly. "It was right after we decided friendship was the best course. The action seems contradictory to what you said."

After a few thought-filled moments, he sighed in truth. "You're on my mind; what more can I say? But I don't think dreams can be true evidence of contradiction, given that they're meant to be _private."_

"Except it wasn't private, and this is important to me."

"Why?"

With a hopeful tone, she made her statement. "We agreed to friendship, I know, but, as much as I try, I'm having trouble forgetting the kiss we shared in the cavern. Perhaps the dream means that somewhere deep inside, you're having trouble forgetting too?"

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and quietly answered her. "I haven't forgotten it."

"Good." Eyes hopeful, she touched his hand across the table between them. "Can we have a proper discussion about what's going on between us then?"

His eyes snapped up from the flames to meet hers. Alistair pulled away from her and stood up, leaning onto the mantle. "There are a hundred reasons not to do this."

"Such as?"

"We've just met, we're colleagues... you were recently visited by an apparition of your dead lover."

"Those are fair reasons." Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat, and opened her mouth to speak softly. "Forget all of that for a moment."

Alistair furrowed his brow in question and kept his eyes locked on hers.

"There's something here. Don't you feel it?"

A sad smile crossed his lips and he rambled uncomfortably. "Yes. I… I've enjoyed your company and I will continue to do so. You're a beautiful woman, and it's been a long time since... Don't think I'm not tempted, but I'd be a fool to walk blindly into something that I can't finish. I'm not that kind of man."

The woman demanded clarification, standing to mimic his stance by the hearth. "If you feel something, then why not act—"

"You're so young."

"Now, that's a poor excuse: I'm not that much younger than you are." Gwen sighed quietly, hoping that the truth may convince him that her actions were genuine, not the result of grief or youth or delusion. Finally, she admitted what she was feeling the last few days. "Alistair, I have come to care for you."

Turning to her, he met her gaze. "I—I have enjoyed our friendship thus far, but that's all _this_ can be." His next words came out in a near whisper. "That's all I can offer."

"But, you kissed me back."

His voice strained with remorse and he looked away from her. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've stopped it. I _did_ stop it."

Gwen shook her head, dejected. "Why refuse this when you admit you feel something? It doesn't make sense."

"It's complicated."

Gwen reached out to touch his hand and his eyes jolted back up to her. He stepped backward slowly, but she held on, meeting his kind eyes as she spoke. "You make my heart race, Alistair. You do it when you look at me with that wrinkled brow, and when you deliver one of your stuttering statements. I want _more_ of that feeling, if only to discover what it means."

At his insistence, he pulled his hand from her grasp. "Please, don't say things like that."

With those words, her heart fell and her head drooped, to preserve what pride she had left, she turned away from him, wondering what her next move should be. With her back to him, moments passed with only their breath and the crackling fire heard between them.

Reluctance in her voice, Gwen broke the cloak of silence. "I should have never initiated anything, and I shouldn't have come digging for more. I'm sorry, again. It's just hard to resist something so seemingly good when the rest of my world is broken."

His expression softened and curiosity set in. "What did you hope to gain from coming here?"

Meekly, she responded, "I don't rightly know. I suppose, I wanted an answer." Gwen turned to face him and met his eyes, sending him a wan smile. "I got one, even if it doesn't make sense."

He hesitantly spoke, trying to explain, unsuccessfully. "My life is… complicated. Your life is complicated. This would only serve to add to the complications."

"Maybe I want that complication, Alistair."

For a moment, they were both quiet again and Gwen's vision was fixed on the flames. When she lifted her eyes, his were there, penetrating and thoughtful. His brows came to that familiar wrinkle that sped up her heart, but his words were pained. "I _can't._ "

"You continue to say that, but you're not explaining why." Frustrated, even a little angry at the ebb and flow of their conversation, she stomped her foot on the wooden floor.

When he didn't immediately answer, she hastily began packing her journal up, intent on leaving before they ventured into an angry conversation.

The woman made it nearly to the door when he called out to her with vigor and anger in his voice. "I can't be the man you deserve."

"What does that even mean?" Gwen rounded and laughed obnoxiously, to which he deepened his angry eyes, but their shared fitful stares where interrupted by the sounding of the eleventh bell.

"I need to clear my head before the meeting." Shaking her head at him, she turned to the door, offering a weak respite. "I think you should do the same."

.

Gwen excused herself through the main hall, flustered and embarrassed by their conversation. Truthfully, the last thing she wanted was to be left with her confused thoughts, but she wanted a quiet moment alone before facing her companions and her quarters were a perfect sanctuary.

Gwen sighed leaning against the wall in the alcove below her bedroom, her heart racing from anger or her quick escape. She thought about Alistair's words and his agitated honey-brown eyes flashed in her mind.

"Those damn eyes." She hit the wall behind her with a clenched fist and hastened up the stairs. "They're what got me into all this trouble in the first place!"

Reaching the top floor, the woman sought her desk and the comfort of sitting behind it, protected by her position. Sitting in the large cushioned chair, she noticed a package wrapped in brown paper and tied tight with string. Producing a knife from her desk drawer, she cut the ties and pulled off the stiff paper, revealing Varric's book, 'Swords and Shields'. Gazing at the cover, she lifted a cautionary eyebrow and opened the book.

Gwen walked around to sit on the sofa by her fireplace. She settled in with a blanket covering her legs and began to read. Soon she fell asleep, mimicking Cassandra with the book splayed open on her chest.


	15. All Work and No Play: Part Two

xXXXx

 

The noon bell sounded and Gwen's eyes popped open. "Damn! The meeting!"

Shuffling down the stone steps, she ran her hands through her hair and tugged her clothing back into place. Her grey cloak was clasped around her shoulders and she donned the hood as she slipped into the main hall.

As she pulled at the door leading to the Josephine's office, she noticed the absence of her Ambassador and irritation itched at her.

The meeting was already under way and she cursed under her breath as she ran to the great double doors, throwing the wicket gate open with zeal.

Skidding to a stop, she looked around the room as every face turned to greet her. Slowly, she slid the cloak from her shoulders, simultaneously remembering that she'd had a revitalizing make-over that morning. Cursing under her breath at her fashionable tardiness, she caught stares and smiles from around the room.

Vivienne dipped her chin, looking positively delighted.

Cole gave her a simple, strange, and knowing smile.

Cullen stood frozen, his eyes fixed on her, a faint smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

Solas smirked and cocked his head in appraisal.

Josephine beamed and clasped her hands together.

Cassandra's smiled as her eyes wandered to the Grey Warden to gauge his reaction.

Alistair averted his eyes to the map atop the table, his brow furrowed in thought.

Leliana bowed her head with a slowly growing smile, until she grinned wickedly.

Varric chuckled lowly and wagged his eyebrows.

Hawke raised a single eyebrow, as a wide grin grew on his face.

"Tell me you haven't started without me." Breaking the moment, Gwen caught her breath through the words and her eyes scanned the room again.

"We would not dream of it." Leliana responded first, raising her eyebrows high.

Gwen turned with a jerk to her Spymaster and nodded politely, taking a deep breath. She took her usual place at the front of the table, easing into the empty chair placed there.

Glancing around with a sincere and professional smile, she asked in her clear, controlled, Inquisitor voice, "Shall we begin?"

The Spymaster nodded. "The 21st day of Cloudsreach in the year 9:41 Dragon, we begin the meeting to discuss the current affairs of the Inquisition." Leliana droned out, taking the minutes down as she spoke. "Josie, you may begin."

"Thank you, Leliana. Let us start with the introductions of our newest recruits." Josephine walked around the table to where Alistair sat and handed him the requisition form. "Many of you know this man already: he is the Grey Warden Alistair and one of those who ended the Fifth Blight."

Pointing to the document, she added. "And do we have a surname for you, Alistair?"

With a surprised stutter, he responded. "I—I prefer not to use it."

The Ambassador straightened her back and spoke again, her tone insistent. "Surely for the sake of clarity of our records you would provide it." The dark-haired woman nodded slowly expecting the Warden to speak at any moment, but the man stayed quiet as he signed the parchment, with his first name only, in slow, neat script.

It was Leliana who chimed in, relieving the pressure and the attention from her Warden friend. "Josie, allow me to take care of that document. I will ensure that it is complete."

Josephine gave a questioning look and handed the freshly signed parchment to the Spymaster. "Of course. See that it returns to the file with the other Requisitions after you are finished."

"Have no worries, my friend." Leliana placed the parchment into a folder and placed it on the table in front of her. She spared a glance to Alistair whose eyes thanked her as their attention drew again to the Ambassador.

"Many of you also know Adam Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall." Josephine swept her hand to him, laying the form in front of him on the table to sign.

Recovering from a wince, the rogue responded by leaning over the table to scribble an unintelligible name under his printed version.

Coldly he spoke to the group. "Call me _Hawke_. There are none left alive who call me by my given name." Pushing the paper harshly toward the Ambassador, the man's face was serious for once and his eyes downcast.

Ready to move forward with the meeting and sensing both of her new recruits' discomfort, Gwen spoke. "I doubt another welcome is necessary, but let me say this: thank you both for your most needed help in Crestwood. We certainly would not be here without you." Looking around, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas nodded with approval.

With the pleasantries out of the way, the Inquisitor began reading from an organized list of topics to discuss, the first being a brief update on her most recent adventures. She began a summary of events in Crestwood. The inner circle sat spaced around the table as well, every so often adding their opinions and input, as they saw fit.

After mentioning briefly that she had to use her minimal healing abilities, Gwen was interrupted by her fellow Circle mage. For not being involved in dealings outside of Skyhold, the Court Mage was quite assertive with her opinions.

"Ah, you see my dear, you should really have taken the one-on-one, healing classes with _moi_ months ago." Vivienne's voice was coated with a saccharin reprimand. "At that point, you'd been collecting elfroot by the handfuls. To aid in the healing of torn tissues and the prevention of scarring, you masticate the elfroot, then apply the poultice to the dry wound."

She recited the line as if she'd had a textbook open in front of her. "After the wound stops bleeding, you flush the poultice from the tissues, and then proceed with the healing magic."

"Thank you, Vivienne." Gwen smiled pleasantly. "As Alistair and I were alone, I did what any field healer would do. After that episode, Solas continued to teach me more of the healing arts."

The elf interjected. "And I wish to continue to do so, Inquisitor. You're an apt student and have tremendous potential. You have a great deal yet to learn if we are to match Corypheus."

Vivienne's face dropped her charm. "The Inquisitor is to be trained by an _apostate?_ That is as ridiculous as it is dangerous."

"As Inquisitor, it is _my_ choice." Gwen grabbed her empty cup and stood up to stretch her legs. She walked to a side table along the wall, to pour herself another drink. Upon turning, she caught the bald elf's creased brow and thinned lips. Smiling at him with warmth, she spoke with confidence, "And I choose Solas as my teacher."

"None of you have anything to say?" The court mage snapped, attempting to draw the rest of the group into the argument.

Cassandra spoke, knowing her words had weight as a Seeker. "Solas has proven himself again and again. He continues to aid us with his knowledge of the Fade rifts, and Alistair would not be here if it was not for his quick actions in Crestwood. Apostate or no, he has demonstrated his reliability."

"Very well." Vivienne sat back, poised in her seat, with a forced smile plastered on her face. "If you should need any _additional_ training, Inquisitor, I am here as always."

"Of course, Vivienne." Gwen placated the court mage and strolled over to the table again, checking her notes outlining the meeting. "Now, where was I?"

Josephine chimed in, excitedly. "You and Alistair were taking the correspondences to the nearest camp when you were attacked by the wolves. Do continue, Inquisitor, _please._ "

.

A short time later, Leliana had moved the direction of the meeting to listing the happenings across the map, noting areas that required aid, and revealing the next big movements for the Inquisitor.

Leliana spoke in a loud clear voice. "After this morning's meeting, we, the Advisors, agree with the Inquisitor's recommendations and are sending her into the Western Approach. She'll be accompanied by Alistair and Hawke, as well as the others that the Inquisitor herself will hand select."

Gwen nodded at her Spymaster's words, adding her own to the tail-end. "I'll speak with those select few individually. Though, I'd prefer more of a force behind me, being so far from home. It would take weeks to secure troops if we need them and with the Peace Talks in two months, I don't want to spend more time there than necessary."

Cullen interjected, flashing a smile at her when he spoke. "At tomorrow's tactical meeting, we'll assess whether we're sending more soldiers with you. I agree with you; we don't want a repeat of Crestwood." His eyes glanced around the room, falling on Alistair and Hawke.

Josephine piped up. "The Inquisitor brings up another valid point: we will have little time once she returns from the Approach to prepare for the Peace Talks at the Winter Palace. I'd like to form a committee to train her upon her homecoming."

Gwen intoned, " _Excellent_ idea. I'll need all the help I can get."

Through a light laugh, the Ambassador responded over the growing din of laughter and voices, "Then I shall start speaking to those who will be of help in training you immediately."

"I'd like to say I look forward to it, but..." Gwen chuckled, and again, the people in the room laughed along with her, beginning their own idle conversations that echoed into the open room.

After looking over her notes, the map, and the room full of tired eyes, Gwen breathed deep and gave a curt nod to Leliana.

The Bard broke the conversations with her authoritative tone. "Anything else to add before we adjourn?"

Heads shook across the room, and Cole had already managed to slip out undetected. Grateful for a chance to retreat from the spotlight—or perhaps Alistair—Gwen left the room in search of more miniature stanchions for the table.

Upon returning minutes later, she blessedly found herself alone.

.

The Inquisitor stayed behind in the War Room to familiarize herself with the new developments and potential errands to curry favor across the realm. She leaned over the enormous table to gather the stanchions together and placed them adjacent to a pile of small pieces of parchment, with notes on each.

Humming to herself, she flipped through the pile, reading over each, then placing several in front of her for further consideration. Unbeknownst to her, the wicket gate opened behind her and Alistair stalked in silently, pausing as he heard her speaking to herself.

"Missing Seekers for Cassandra, yes. Ostwick Nobles, _no_. More mages to take in? I'll have to speak with Fiona about that."

The woman tapped the table idly with her fingertips and moved through more of the papers, placing two more in front of her.

"A memorial for Haven, sure. Grey Warden treaties, maybe. I'll have to talk to Alistair or Blackwall. Oh, Maker. Darkspawn in the Storm Coast? Bull cleared that area over a month ago—"

"Darkspawn?" The Warden stood a few feet behind her now, startling a jump from her.

"For a warrior, you move with great stealth." An amused glare passed over her eyes and she turned slightly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hard not to be stealthy when I'm wearing such light-weight clothing." He chanced a small grin, then dropped his expression and his eyes to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for another tense conversation. Attempting to keep it professional, she began, "And yes, we encounter pockets of darkspawn occasionally, though they remain largely out of sight. I wonder why they would start appearing so soon after we left the Coast. Is that typical?"

He took a place next to her and leaned over to look at the map, proving his authority on a well-known subject. "The stragglers aren't as organized as people think. They crop up in places where the Deep Roads passages crumble or the dwarven barriers break. Perhaps your Qunari weakened the area's natural defenses."

Gwen nodded in understanding, adding her own information. "According to the reports, there was a Dragon there and a giant if my memory serves me. Both were eradicated by Iron Bull's team."

"There you have it." The man dropped his eyes to the map, studying its surface with feigned interest.

"Are you here only to offer your Grey Warden expertise or is there... something you needed?" A timid smile played on her lips and her eyes watched his as they returned quickly to her face.

The Warden turned and casually leaned his backside on the table, crossing his arms over his chest. "I... just came to talk." His words were quick and cryptic, his face forced into an emotionless expression.

Gwen stood tall, and saw through his numbness. "What about, exactly?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "Fine. I want to _apologize_ about this morning."

She turned back toward the war table and fumbled with the stanchions. "I accept it, and offer my own, of course."

"Oh, very convincing, Gwen." His hand flew into the air dramatically as he sighed, "I don't want our relationship reduced to this guarded professionalism. I actually _liked_ being friends with you."

"I agree with you." She said succinctly, purposefully not meeting his eye. "Though, I think I'd still like time to clear my head."

"Maker's breath, how long will you need? Hours?" The man groaned lowly. " _Days_?"

Gwen met his appraising eyes immediately, her face etched with criticism. "As long as it takes."

Alistair blurted out, scoffing at her, "If it takes days to clear your head, it's way too, um, full."

Her voice rose in irritation. "With what do you imagine it's filled with exactly?"

Abashed, he responded quietly, "Besides the business of the Inquisition and personal, uh, matters? All sorts of reasonable things, I'd wager."

Huffing lightly, she returned to face the table with quill in hand, focusing on the tasks laid out.

He raised an eyebrow, his prowess returning. "Perhaps there's a place in your mind where you could forgive a man whose been an insensitive arse."

Refusing to make eye contact, Gwen pretended to work, though her face softened. "There may be such a place."

He chanced to scoot closer, pursing his full lips in remorse. "Could there be a space in there where a friendship near its inception can survive my colossal buffoonery?"

An ache in her chest made her wince and stop the farce of working while the man beside her apologized in his own, lopsided, yet endearing way. She knew then that it would be some time before she could think of him as nothing more than a friend; he was too damn charming.

It was with that notion that she turned and put on her best show. One that would hopefully fool the fool standing in front of her. The fool she had begun to have feelings for, and the one who would continue to torment her conscience until they had to part ways in the weeks to come. If he wanted to keep their friendship intact, she couldn't deny him that, nor could she deny herself the same pleasure.

Smiling at his words, she leaned back on the table to sit next to him. "Such a place exists."

"Thank the Maker," He breathed out forcefully. "It was exhausting trying to be so clever."

Her laugh echoed off the high ceiling and a wide smile laid on her lips. "It was very entertaining; thank you for the show."

With some reservation, the Warden resumed his jovial way of speaking. "That's what I'm here for: to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners."

"So it seems." Gwen chuckled, tilting her head at him.

"Now that we're on friendly terms again, what do you say to getting out of here? I think you promised to give me a tour last night."

The smile faded from her lips. "I'm sorry. I want to give my advisors these recommendations before the day is done. It's one less thing I have to do tomorrow." The Inquisitor gestured to the map, but Alistair's eyes didn't follow, and instead stayed locked on her.

The Inquisitor moved one marker to sit atop the paper pertaining to Cassandra's Seekers, then picked up a quill to write a 'J' on the corner. "This afternoon isn't good for fraternizing, I'm afraid."

Nodding glumly, he responded. "I can help you with your work. Perhaps with both of us working it'll be finished sooner."

"After this I'll be meeting with a few important people privately." Gwen pressed her lips into a smile. "Thank you for the offer, but you should relax."

"How about meeting me for dinner? You have to eat, right?"

"I'm not sure—I mean, yes, I have to eat." She looked away from him, pursing her lips as she moved another marker onto a scrap of paper detailing the construction of a Haven Memorial, jotting a small 'C' on the edge. "I can try."

"It's fine; I understand."

"My first day back is the busiest, I _did_ tell you that last night." She scolded him lightly.

"I know you did, I just… thought maybe you were exaggerating since you had the time to visit me earlier." Pushing himself up from the table, Alistair walked toward the door.

With the notes in her hand, she whirled around and called out to him. "I promise I'll try to meet you for dinner."

The man turned to send her a solemn nod.

Gwen's heart sank a bit to see him walk out the wicket gate but once he left the room, she released a breath she didn't know she held. "Back to work." She sighed, the distraction of her duty suddenly welcome after the rush of mixed emotions that came from their conversation.

* * *

oOOOo

 

Outside of the War Room, Alistair passed through Josephine's office and offered a nod of his head and a quick smile.

"Wait, Alistair, do you have a moment?" The Ambassador spoke softly, attempting to diffuse his apparent agitation and gain his favor.

"Josephine, is it?" He halted his steps, but only briefly. "What can I do for you?"

The woman rose and gestured to a pile of canvas bags in various sizes. "These were intended for our armory, but last night the soldiers found the Undercroft doors to be tightly locked. Would you mind taking them down there for me? It may take two trips, but they are far too heavy for me to lift even one at a time."

"Of course, anything to help the Inquisition." Alistair lifted a bag into each of his arms and turned away, only to turn back again. "Where exactly _is_ the Undercroft?"

"Ah, how silly of me." She rose quickly, straightening her sleeves as she passed him and stood in the doorway to point. "The door is there: across the main hall, just past the throne."

With a cheerful nod, Alistair stepped into the hall. "I'll be back in a few minutes for the others."

"Thank you." She said with a relieved breath.

"It's no problem, really. You've given me something to occupy the next few minutes, at least." He chuckled at himself.

"Your modesty is admirable." Josephine reached out to touch his arm and his eyes locked on hers. In a hushed voice, she spoke, "I know you may not be with us for long, but if you should need anything from me while you're here, please ask."

"I will, thank you."

.

The bags were all carried to the door of the Undercroft before Alistair stepped foot into the space. He'd wanted to give the Ambassador her privacy, rather than interrupting her every time he opened the door to retrieve the packages.

_Despite the task, it feels good to be doing something… anything is better than sitting around in my room, alone with my damned thoughts._

Pressing the handle, he gave a shove and the heavy door opened slowly. As he stooped to pick up the bags, he heard the noises within: hammering on metal, scraping on leather, tinking of glass bottles, the hissing of the quenching trough, and a chorus of indistinct voices.

Standing at the top of the room, he looked out over the few men and women who worked in the Inquisition armory. A couple faces rose and fell back into their work after realizing there was a newcomer in their midst. The mixed scents of sawdust, leather, metal, and alchemical concoctions hung in the air.

A red-headed female dwarf flitted around the stations, emanating a cheerful presence, pausing as she looked over to the Grey Warden.

"Alistair?"

Astonished that someone knew his name, he skipped down the stairs toward the dwarf. As he neared her, something in the back of his mind recognized the sprightly woman. "I've seen you before. Forgive me, I'm terrible with names."

"It's me, Dagna! You and Mihna Surana sponsored my studies and sent me to the Ferelden Circle Tower." She held out her hand to shake his and he dropped the packs he held before her. "I could never forget you… How is your troupe?"

"Dispersed."

"Ah, that happens." She looked at the packs that lay before her feet. "Oo, are these for me?!"

"I guess so. I'm just an errand boy today."

"No! Not you!" She spoke with such exuberance that Alistair could do nothing but smile at her.

"Yes, truly. I'm here at the Inquisitor's request, and we'll be off to the Western Approach in a few days."

"A few days?" She looked him up and down, and gripped her chin in thought. "Ya know, if you're not busy... I could use an extra hand, if you have the time."

_This could take the edge off the boredom._

"Sure." Alistair smiled. "Let me grab the other bags and you can let me know what needs to be done."

.

With the bags in their respective locations around the room, Dagna began introducing Alistair to the workers in her Undercroft. They were much less lively than the dwarf and the extent of their eagerness to train him displayed plainly on their stoic faces.

That is, until he came to the leather-worker. Giving Alistair a cheerful grin, he shook the Warden's hand vigorously, with his large oiled palms. Taken aback, Alistair watched him from across the table, as the man wiped down a pair of leather gloves and polished them to a sheen with a buffing cloth. He was at least twenty years older than Alistair, with dark grey hair, shorn down to a fuzz on the top of his balding head. He had a wide smile, and amazingly, still had all his teeth.

With a deep, resonant voice, he welcomed the stranger. "Good to meet you, I'm Lem."

"Alistair, and likewise."

Dagna began a tirade. "We get swamped in leatherworking. Little Quizzie wears it, the rogues wear it, heck, warriors wear it under their armor. Point is, everyone uses it, everyone needs it replaced or repaired."

Lem smirked at him. "Do you know how to sew?"

_I have a feeling I'm going to regret this in the long run._

"On occasion, I've had to repair my own leather, and cloth, on the road, so yes: I do know how to sew." Alistair fidgeted with a strip of leather on the table and smirked back to the older man. "I can't vouch for my craftsmanship."

"Good enough." The leatherworker hummed.

Dagna seemed pleased and touched Alistair on the forearm. "You don't need to come here like it's a job, but every little bit helps, ya know?"

"I appreciate it, Dagna."

"No problem." She spun around and took a few steps away, before she pivoted back and called out to Alistair. "We'll be breaking down for the day at the next bell, but you can probably grasp the basics in that time."

Chuckling, he responded, "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

She turned with a smile and walked away while making her last statement. "You're the best, Alistair!"

Lifting his eyebrows in amused confusion, he turned to Lem, who stared at him with another grin. "She's rambunctious, but she knows her shit."

"I can see that." He glanced across the room once before turning to the table, where he took a seat on a stool and watched the man work. Soon, a half dozen pairs of gloves in various sizes were laying on the table, ready for buffing.

"Would you get a clean cloth for yourself and another for me? They're over in the corner, by the hide frames."

"I can do that."

Rising from his seat, he traveled to where the man had directed him and found a sack full of clean rags. While pulling the cloths from the bag, Alistair's eyes roamed to the nearest hide frame where he noticed thick and dark fur hanging.

_That looks oddly familiar_.

Meandering over to it, he touched the soft fur and his mind was sent back to Crestwood and the wolf attack with Gwen.

A thin, involuntary laugh escaped his lips, and he turned to Lem. "Is-is this wolf fur?"

"That's right; good eye. A bunch of them came in about a week ago. Damn amateurs left a shit-ton of meat and fat on the skins too. Took some time to scrape it down."

"Were there four of them?"

Lem was starting to become wise to the man's questions, and he rose to stand with Alistair. "Yeah, four. I only scraped two of em. The rest I salted for later. You skinned these, didn't you?"

His hand touched the fur, stroking it softly as his mind swam. "I think so… in Crestwood."

"Didn't anybody teach you how to skin, boy?"

Alistair laughed. "I'm afraid not."

"Well, you made a lot of extra work for yourself, but their yours if you want to finish the rest of them."

With a hopeful gaze, the Warden turned to take the rags to Lem. "They're not slated for another project?"

"I don't have much use for the ones with fur this time of year, not for battle armor anyway." He moved back to his seat as they talked. "It'll be good practice for you, since you skinned them. They're yours, if you want them."

Alistair nodded humbly. "I'd like that very much, thank you."

The leatherworker chuckled warmly as they buffed the gloves together. "I understand, more than you know. I can still remember the first thing I made with my own skins. I was eleven and I made my first ever knapsack. It wasn't perfect, but damn, I was proud of that thing!"

The Warden gave a chuckle, but his mind was running. "What could I make with these, Lem?"

"Good for sleeping on once they're tanned. For armor, maybe pauldrons or a fur mantle, like the Commander's." The man lifted his eyes, seeing Alistair's indecision. "You don't need to make up your mind now. Best to clean them up first."

"Right." Alistair nodded, lifting one of the salted hides skeptically.

Lem chuckled lowly and came to his side, hoisting up one of the pelts with liveliness. "Grab that side and I'll show ya how it's done."

The seasoned leatherworker taught Alistair the basics of cleaning the hide and he caught on quickly. The Warden-turned-skinner, had one wolf pelt almost entirely rid of flesh, when the bell ran and the long workday ended for the men and women in the Undercroft.

Alistair lagged behind to finish the pelt, only to be extricated by Dagna when the dwarf was ready to lock up for the night.

.

Renewed that he had a plan for his downtime, Alistair ventured back to his room with the hope he'd be able to see Gwen at dinner and perhaps begin to repair their tenuous friendship.

Upon entering his quarters, Alistair found a missive with the Inquisitor's seal lying on his bed, atop a short stack of books, the top which read 'History of Ferelden: Volume Two'. Anticipation hit his stomach as he fumbled with the golden wax and opened the folded parchment.

…

_Alistair,_

_Don't be angry with me, please, but I won't be able to make it to dinner. The private meetings are still going on and will continue through the evening, I'm told. I took advantage of a short break to write this so that you wouldn't worry about not seeing me._

_Forgive me, I should have better prepared you for this. I miss our talks and walks and promise tomorrow I'll make time for you._

_I forget that we are new friends and you don't know much about me, except what we shared on our recent adventure. However, I didn't forget what you told me about your interest in reading. I spent another of my short breaks perusing the lower library for these._

_This is a poor substitute for my company, but enjoy._

_Gwen_

…

Tossing the paper to the bed, he lifted the book, running his hand across the embossed cover which held a familiar insignia, his own familial crest: twin Mabari figures, facing one another. A thin smile crossed his lips and he carried himself to the armchair by the fire. Opening the book as he sat, he toed his boots off and stretched his feet toward the warm fire on the hearth.


	16. Roll with the Punches: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my humble opinion, a Dragon Age fanfic is incomplete without a sparring scene. Anyone else agree? :D
> 
> Again, I do a bit of overlapping of time. Forgive the confusion, if any.

oOOOo

 

Wild dreams woke Alistair, just as the dawn crept under the crack of his door. Though hungry, he waited patiently for breakfast to begin, reading the book Gwen had left him the night before.

Sitting in his armchair beside the fire, he flipped pages idly, honing in on select words, reading fragments to pass the time, and bookmarking anything that caught his interest. It was hard to read with the nagging pain in his stomach and the shrill buzz in his skull.

Amazingly, through the hunger and the Calling, an image of the sage-eyed Inquisitor, strolled across his mind and he smiled, dropping the book in his lap. His eyes glazed over, staring at the cold ash in his fireplace.

Yesterday, they'd patched up their torn friendship with humor and the promise of more, yet deep inside, he wished their relationship back to the way it was in Crestwood. He missed her, but he couldn't truly admit it to himself or her, for fear of what it could mean, so he suppressed it.

Chasing the thought from his head, he dressed in another set of clothing provided by the Inquisition, feeling less like Grey Warden with each day away from his duty.

.

After an ample early breakfast, Alistair visited the Undercroft with the intention to start working on the things he'd laid out the day prior, only to find the doors locked up tight. Agitated, he left the main hall just as more people started showing up for breakfast.

Without a solid plan for the rest of the day, the Warden found himself wandering the grounds, unknowingly making his way toward the two rogue archers he'd come to miss over the last two days.

.

Stopping at the entrance, he gazed at the sign hanging beside the door, which read "Herald's Rest", though he doubted Gwen frequented the place enough to live up to the name. He meandered through the door and found Hawke lounging at a table with Varric, shuffling cards easily, as the pair spoke in hushed tones.

Turning fresh attention to Alistair, the raven-haired rogue tilted his head. "Damn, you look like shit. Sleeping well? Any late nights... with company?"

Varric smirked, clearing his throat from sleep. "What he really means is: 'I miss you'."

Smirking at his friend, Alistair crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sleeping fine... and alone, as always."

"Shame." Hawke sent him a disapproving scowl and finished the last of his drink in one, clean swallow. "You up for a little gambling?"

"I suppose." The Warden let out a long breath and reached for one of the neighboring chairs at the table, settling in comfortable. "I might as well relax for a while."

Hawke stood up, eagerly gathering two daggers from the other side of the table. "Come on. The sparring ring will be open soon."

Alistair stayed in his seat, confused as he turned his head to follow the man. "But... you're an archer and I thought we were going to play Wicked Grace."

"The Inquisitor was right; I need to release some tension." His grin was devilish. "And I'll be taking bets while I do it. Come."

Shaking his head, the Warden slowly rose from his seat and responded, pointing to the weapons. "Are you any good with those?"

Varric chuckled his voice still gravelly. "He knows which end to hold, at least."

"I'm competent with a blade, but if you're both so certain I'm a tenderfoot, come take me," Hawke's eye narrowed and he added, "As a pair."

The dwarf and the Warden shared an amused glance and rose to follow the man out the door.

* * *

xXXXx

 

It was before sunrise the next morning, when Gwen found herself awake in her bed, an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Last night, she'd used her position as an excuse to skip dinner with Alistair, hoping that giving herself time and space would stave off the feelings she felt. The sting of the lie made her innards twist with guilt.

Shambling to her desk, she saw a note left upon a tray and tore the envelope open.

…

_Have tea with me this afternoon? (If you can spare the time.) Alistair is joining us as well, so wear something pretty._

_Lel_

…

"Why even try?" Gwen groaned and tossed the note on her desk carelessly.

With forced effort, she prepared herself for the day, spending more time on her appearance than usual, as per her Spymaster and Ambassador's council. Gwen wasn't keen on the latest fashion, in fact, she never gave much thought to her attire, since nearly her entire life she wore the simple garments of the circle mage. She preferred a modest, uncomplicated look over many layers and frivolous accessories, but Josephine had made it clear that she was expected to look presentable.

The eighth bell rang in the tower and Gwen cursed from under her tunic as it caught on her head. With clothes strewn over her bed and sofa, the indecisive woman finally settled on a slim-fitted cream tunic under a silk emerald green, brocade vest with vine-etched brass buttons. She paired it with banded grey leather leggings and matching pull-on suede boots, with a higher heel than her usual stompers.

She paid very close attention to Renee's ministrations the day before, and so, with a calm hand, she applied a deep green powder to her eyes, light rouge to her cheek bones, and gloss to her lips. Brushing her hair out revealed loose waves from yesterday's curls and satisfied, she decided not to fuss with it. Proudly, she smiled to herself in the mirror, before donning her grey cloak.

Ready for the day, she braved the main hall.

.

The breakfast tables were filling and the Inquisitor panned the room for any of her recent companions. Since it was well after the eighth bell, she knew Solas would have already been there and gone, and depending on their night, Varric and Hawke might still be asleep. Her eye caught Cassandra sitting at the end of a full table with a few soldiers. The Seeker gave her curt nod before turning to speak with her company. Alistair was nowhere to be seen, and she sighed with relief.

Picking through the breakfast banquet, she filled her plate modestly, and sat alone at the end of a table. Before too long, the Quartermaster, Eustice Morris, sat next to her, remarking that the Inquisitor should not be seated alone. The energetic young man continued to speak at length for the duration of her breakfast, even as he filled his mouth with food. Gwen found it helpfully distracting to listen to him go on about his family and the love for his job.

The distraction dulled the ache in her heart, but only barely. She knew she'd see Alistair today and that the dull pain of his rejection would resound in her chest, but there was nothing to be done about it. She wasn't some lovelorn adolescent, pining for something that could never be. She was the Inquisitor, and she was going to act like a leader to these people, aching heart notwithstanding.

.

After breakfast, Gwen retreated to her work, searching the Ambassador's office in a near panic, cursing the soldiers who supposedly brought her all-important bags to their correct places on the evening she arrived home. She looked around the room, squinting her eyes for two distinctive packs.

There were a few other bags and boxes sitting upon a wide cabinet behind the Ambassador's desk yet to be sorted from her travels. Leaning on the furniture, she rummaged through the first one she could find.

Josephine entered the room with a cup of steaming tea in hand and asked the Inquisitor with a curious tone. "May I help you, my dear?"

Surprised at her sudden appearance, Gwen stood upright. "Yes. The soldiers were supposed to deliver some of my things here two nights ago. Samples for Helisma and new books for the Library."

"Ah, one moment. The soldiers put those away for safekeeping." The Ambassador placed her cup on the table and then turned to a cabinet. She opened a concealed door and pulled out two bundles. With a strained sigh, she half lifted and half dragged the bags to a place beside her desk.

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you: that one is full of books." In a swift step, she came to the other woman's rescue, lifting the heavy sack with more ease.

"Well, that was embarrassing. I rarely lift more than my clipboard on most days." She chuckled, adjusting her satin sleeves as she flitted behind her desk again. "Is there anything else you need, Inquisitor?"

"You've been most helpful, thank you."

Gwen hefted the heavier of the two bags onto her back, when Josephine called to her.

"Inquisitor."

She smiled and turned to the woman behind the desk, stopping before she reached the door. "Yes?"

"You have recreated Renee's work quite nicely." Josephine gave her a wide, approving smile.

"You flatter me." She chuckled, curtseyed with the pack still on her back, and left the room with heavy totes in tow.

.

Burdened with the two bags: one full of new books for the library and one full of samples gleaned from enemies in Crestwood, Gwen reached the door of the rotunda.

With a hopeful smile, she opened the door only to find the room empty. She passed through, gazing around for signs that Solas would soon return, before reassuring herself that eventually they would have a chance to speak before they departed for the Western Approach.

Reaching the second floor, Gwen turned her head and smiled at the space where Dorian usually stood, missing the way he made comments to her, particularly her usual homely choice of clothing. She grinned at the thought of his jaw dropping at her new stylish appearance. Striding past his nook, she came to a table, dropping the bags on its surface. With a friendly wave, she beckoned the tranquil mage to her aid.

"Hello, Helisma. I trust you've had a pleasant month." Gwen smiled at her, earning a nod from the woman. "With me gone and not throwing these scraps at you, you probably got loads of other work done."

She nodded again, answering, "Yes. I have been quite prolific since your last departure, though the work you give me is important and I do not mind its prevalence over the other things I do."

"I'm very thankful for it." Gwen opened the bag revealing pieces of fabric, blade fragments, and a dozen other odds and ends found on fallen foes. "If you have any questions about these, come find me; I'll be perusing the library." Her hand graced over a few of the pieces collected from Crestwood and the memories flooded back to her. Gwen's fingers lifted a small claw, from a wolf they had fought on their arrival to the first dreary camp. It reminded her of Alistair and she dropped it back into the bag, closing it forcefully.

Helisma broke her trance with a clear crisp voice. "I will find you, should I require information." The tranquil mage bowed slightly and turned, beginning to pull the pieces out and placing them in an orderly arrangement on the desk.

The Inquisitor then opened the bag full of books, pulling each out and stacking them on the desk neatly. The mages of Redcliffe would catalog them and shelf the books in due time. She loved these small tasks and their easy completion compared to her normal complicated Inquisitorial dealings.

Gwen took a few steps away and remembered that Fiona, the Grand Enchanter, usually worked on this level of the Rotunda. She had promised herself that she would speak with the former Grey Warden about the Calling.

"Helisma, do you know where I might find Fiona?" Gwen turned to her, peeking her head out from between the bookshelves. "She usually oversees the Mages on this level, right?"

"That is correct, Inquisitor, however, the Grand Enchanter stepped out before you arrived."

"Do you know where she might have gone?"

"Yes, she used the garden door in the Rotunda, Serah."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, as always." Helisma bowed and turned back to her work.

The Inquisitor made for the stairs and hurried across the empty Rotunda below. Reaching the garden door, she opened it, allowing the sunshine to peek into the dark room. The feeling of warmth on her face lifted her mood and she scanned the colonnade for the small elf.

Gwen found her seated on a stone bench, a book lay open in her hands, brows furrowed and eyes scanning the pages. As Gwen approached the elf, her head popped up and her piercing eyes found their match in the Inquisitor's. The elf stood and walked toward the younger mage, tucking the book under her arm.

"Inquisitor." Fiona smiled at her, bowing her head in respect.

"Grand Enchanter." Gwen bowed in matching respect.

"Please, call me Fiona, child."

"Of course, and call me Gwen." The younger mage took a closer step to the elf. "Do you think I could speak with you… privately?"

Fiona lifted an eyebrow. "Of course, dear. I have been eager to speak with you again." She chuckled, taking a step toward a set of stairs to the battlements. "I feared you had forgotten I was here."

Gwen blushed in embarrassment; she had indeed forgotten Fiona after her initial welcome when she had first come to Skyhold.

Seeing the Inquisitor's slight discomfort, Fiona recanted with another light laugh. "Forgive me, Inquisitor, I spoke in jest. I will not—"

"No." Gwen smiled and held up her hand. "It's refreshing to have someone treat me like an equal instead of a 'blessed hero, come to save us all'." She lowered her tone, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the words.

The elder mage laughed aloud and beckoned Gwen to join her in ascending the stairs, weaving through a few people as they made their way upward. "You display modesty, but you may be surprised at the end of this how hero-like you actually are. You should not deflect the praise that is rightly given to you."

The Inquisitor sighed, admonishing herself for her unprofessionalism. "You aren't the first to scold me for my humility, Fiona. In fact, you remind me of why I wanted to speak with you in the first place." Gwen gestured to the walkway leading to the veranda above the gardens. "It would probably be best if we speak out of earshot of anyone else."

"If you think it prudent, of course."

When they reached their destination, Gwen pulled to a stop, leaning her elbows over the balustrade to gaze over the garden below.

"There's another Grey Warden in Skyhold, an ally we recruited from Crestwood."

"Ah, yes. Alistair."

Gwen tilted her head curiously to Fiona. "Do you know him from your time with the Wardens?"

The usually eloquent Grand Enchanter shook her head quickly, fumbling her words. "No, no… he joined the order long after I left. But, I like to keep myself informed of your newest recruits."

Gwen sensed her dismay and brought the conversation back. "He is precisely why I want to talk to you."

Fiona looked away, flustered. "Whatever about, dear?"

Gwen narrowed her eyes in thought. "In our travels, he and I had time to talk and he shared some news with me regarding the Grey Wardens."

The elf lowered her eyes and gripped the stone wall. A silence grew between them.

Impatiently awaiting any response, Gwen pressed her. "You did mention before that you were a Grey Warden?"

"Yes." Fiona's voice regained its composure, and she deflected the question, peering deeply into Gwen's eyes, concerned. "Something troubles you."

"It's Alistair. He's hearing the Grey Warden's Calling… prematurely. Actually, they all are. I want to know how you became immune to it. I wonder if we could help him and all the Grey Wardens hearing it."

Shock caught Fiona's eyes and she shook it away, her voice chilled as she spoke to the Inquisitor. "The method used to… cleanse me is unknown to me. I'm sorry." The last words came out in a whisper.

"Could you perhaps tell me the circumstances, just in case you overlooked something?"

"Nothing was overlooked, trust me. The Wardens at Weisshaupt performed dozens of tests on me, even tried to re-initiate me into the order, but failed." A bleak smile came to the elf's face. "I—I'm sorry."

The Inquisitor nodded glumly, seeing the pain on the woman's face. "Don't be. It was a long shot."

She turned to leave the Grand Enchanter, but the thought of Alistair and his plight shot through her mind. Gwen spun around and met her eye. "I… care about Alistair, and only want to help him. Should you think of anything that we could use— _anything at all_ —please come find me."

.

Hood up, Gwen walked slowly back to the Rotunda, only to find it as empty as it was upon her arrival. Frustrated at Solas' absence and Fiona's lack of knowledge, she kept moving through to the main hall.

Thoughts muddied her perception and she nearly ran into a cluster of Skyhold's guests at the coffee table. From under her hood, she quietly apologized, but the words were lost as she heard shouts and cheers from outside.

Curious, she made her way to the double doors and her eyes widened at the spectacle off in the distance: two blindfolded, shirtless men, sparring in hand to hand combat and surrounded by the entire off-duty guard as well as a great portion of Skyhold's residents and visitors.

As she descended the stairs, she began to hear murmurs from the folk around her. Her heartbeat sped up as the first comment came to her ears, and her feet picked up their pace until she reached the courtyard.

"...the Commander was challenged…"

Gwen gritted her teeth in agitation. Her mind wandered to Hawke and his hateful words with Cullen the night of their arrival.

Unfortunately, due to the crowds, all visibility was lost when she hit the soft grass, so she pulled back her hood and used her prestige to gain her a pass through the people. Flowing through, she stopped to hear two of the kitchen maids speaking.

"They started this game weeks ago. Two men each must pull a slip of parchment from a helm, with an impairment written on it. It applies to both fighters. Last week Sutherland and Morris had to hop on one foot while fighting with pole arms!"

"I suppose they took away the weapons this time as a courtesy, then? Can you imagine them twirling the pikes around aimlessly?"

They laughed together and Gwen turned toward them, imploring them. "Can you tell me, who are the men?"

Bowing slightly, the women smiled and one answered her. "I don't rightly know, Herald. They say one of them is a newcomer, though."

The Inquisitor breathed out her thanks to the ladies and pushed through the crowd until she came to the front and paused, dumbfounded for a moment. Gwen nearly laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in awe. The sight before her was an unexpected one indeed.

Perched on the fence of the sparring ring was Hawke, calling out commands to a man on his side of the ring. Gwen could now see sandy-brown hair at his temples under the blindfold and immediately recognized his form as Alistair.

Standing across the ring was Rylen: a Starkhaven man with facial tattoos. Just like the rogue, he was calling out commands to the Commander of her armies: Cullen. His perfectly combed blond hair was unusually mussed by the handkerchief over his eyes.

Blinking in confusion, a flush rose to her cheeks as she watched them both, bare-chested, moving swiftly around the ring, reaching out at their handler's direction to grab at one another. Her eyes strayed to Alistair and she discreetly looked him over. She watched his quick movements, thinking to herself that without his heavy armor, he was quite nimble. A patch of light hair decorated his muscled chest and worked its way down over his taut stomach, finally disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Fully blushing at her observation, she collected herself and focused on the fight.

The Warden crouched low and jumped out at Hawke's suggestion. Once he felt flesh, he wrapped his arms around Cullen's chest and wrestled the taller man to the ground. The Commander let out a long, pained groan when his body hit hard.

A puff of dirt was swept into the air and the crowd's cries were a mix of jeers and cheers. Gwen skirted the edge of the crowd slowly, watching Cullen twist around and attempt to remove himself from Alistair's iron grip with a well-placed elbow to the Warden's stomach. Alistair groaned, but kept his grip on the man. They rolled around like this on the ground for a few minutes with Cullen ferociously grunting while using his strong limbs to dislodge the Warden, whose grip only tightened around his opponent.

Just when Gwen thought that the situation could get no worse, it did, ten-fold.

In a sudden movement, Hawke turned his head and seeing Gwen, called out impetuously, "To the victor... a kiss! From the _sweet_ lips of none other than the Inquisitor herself, who has come to watch the match."

A wild cheer rose up from the crowd around her, as she attempted to smile and wave the embarrassment away. Another deep blush grew over Gwen and she gazed at the men in the rink, now still on the ground at the revelation of who was before them. They rolled apart quickly and hopped to their feet. Alistair made to lift his blindfold.

"No peeking! That's immediate disqualification!" Hawke yelled at him. "Inquisitor, tell the men that you are indeed here and prove I'm not deceiving them to liven up this pitiful match."

Gwen's eyes narrowed at him and her teeth clenched in her mouth. "I'm here but—"

Boisterously, the rogue cut her off and cried out to the men, encouraging them to continue. "You heard her! Now, fight! I have money on you, Warden. He's to your left, about two paces!"

On the other side of the fence, behind Hawke, Varric shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Inquisitor made her way to the dwarf and summoned him away from the fray with a curl of her finger. As he complied, the crowd grew rowdy again, and their attention fell back to the fight, easing her blush away.

Her voice hissed out to him. "What the hell happened? I can't leave him unattended!"

Varric lifted his eyebrows. "Believe it or not, this wasn't all Hawke. Apparently, this game has been going on for a few weeks. Helps the recruits train and lifts morale. He just, um, _urged_ Alistair into fighting Curly after he lost a few matches himself."

"Gambling and fighting raises spirits?" Gwen pinched her eyes shut.

A faint, trembling voice came from her other side. "It does." Cole blinked and a smile formed on his pale lips. With a slender finger, he pointed at her. "It raises yours as well. Your heart beat is swift and your face is growing red."

Thinning her lips into a smirk, she huffed out a short laugh, bringing her cold hands to her warm cheeks for a moment. "Thank you for your observations, Cole."

The young man turned his head to the men: Cullen had Alistair in a headlock and the latter had his arm around the man's back, attempting to lift the Commander up, unsuccessfully. "They both want the prize."

" _Both_?" Gwen's eyes darted to Cole's.

The boy nodded slowly and Varric laughed, speaking under his breath. "I knew the Warden was lying."

Strained grunts came from the pair, and Gwen glanced at the fight with a grimace, seeing Alistair being pushed into the fence with a thud. Behind her she heard a gasp and turned to find Cassandra darting toward Varric.

Sharply, she called out, pulling his shoulder around so that they stood in front of one another. "What the hell is this, Varric?!"

The dwarf clenched his jaw. "Not _my_ doing, that's what. You'll have to wait to talk to the Commander. _He_ sanctioned these games."

"I don't believe it." She huffed, and attempted to stride past him, but he held her wrist. She yanked it away, but he held tightly. A fire blazed in her dark eyes. "LET go of me."

"There's a lot of money riding on this game, Seeker. You can't just go in there and break it up." He smirked darkly, when she loosened up, knowing he'd won. "You'll have to wait for the winner."

"Easy, Cassandra. It's a little harmless fun." Gwen twitched her nose and tipped her chin to the fighting men. "How is the victor determined, anyway?"

Varric and Cole answered simultaneously. "First blood."

The Inquisitor's head snapped to them. "You aren't serious."

Under her breath, Cassandra sighed. "This is _ridiculous_."

"See that mage on the sidelines? He's a healer." The dwarf pointed to a surly looking mage with dark hair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Perhaps I should talk to Josephine about other forms of entertainment for those at Skyhold. First blood seems a little… crude and dangerous."

"I quite agree!" Cassandra added, crossing her arms.

Gwen turned back to the fight. "Thank goodness there are no weapons involved."

Varric snorted. "Yeah... Not this time."

The Inquisitor crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Cullen face his opponent, lurching forward finding purchase on Alistair's shoulder. The Warden grabbed at the Commander's thick neck, then elbowed him in the cheek. Cullen half laughed, half grunted, and then planted his palm on the man's face. Alistair struggled to pull the hand away and pivot, but he was too slow with Cullen hanging onto him.

Feeling for his target, the Commander threw a hard punch to the where he knew the Warden's face would be, the swift action releasing them both to opposite sides of the ring.

Alistair reeled back after the strike to his mouth. Growling, he lunged out across the ring unexpectedly, grabbing Cullen's shoulders and pulling him toward in for an effective head butt to the side of Cullen's face, missing his nose by mere inches. Both men, scrambled backwards and kneeled, recovering their stances a moment later.

Alistair touched his swollen lip and spat on the ground, the red apparent to all those betting against him.

Cries came from the crowd, "First blood! The Commander drew first blood!"

Hawke threw his hands in the air. "That doesn't count! It was inside his mouth!"

Rylen hopped over the fence separated the fighters, holding them apart to examine the blood. "A bit pathetic, but its first blood." He turned to the men. "It's up to the two of you though."

Cullen removed his blindfold, shook off the recent head trauma, and immediately smoothed his hair back to its usual coiffure. "I drew first blood: I won." He touched a tender bruise forming on his cheekbone.

After pulling the handkerchief from his face, Alistair's eyes narrowed at him. "If I hadn't spat on the ground, no one would have known."

"Then you should have swallowed." Cheeky, Cullen laughed, holding his arm out for Alistair to shake.

The Warden took it immediately, chuckling under his breath. "I walked right into that one, didn't I."

With similar smirks, they regarded one another for a moment before they were both handed towels, and they broke their embrace.

Cullen took the towel he was offered, dried the sweat from his face, and pulled a dark shirt over his torso.

Hawke slumped his shoulders and walked to Rylen, handing him a pouch of coins with a sneer, then made his way to the Warden, to offer his sympathy with a shrug.

Alistair wiped his mouth with the towel, eyeing the blood with annoyance, before he turned to find his shirt draped over the sparring fence. He pulled the tan colored linen tunic over his head in time to see Varric and Cole walking over to where he stood.

.

As the blow was landed moments before, and the blood from Alistair's mouth was expelled, a dread washed over Gwen. She stayed by the fence post watching the aftermath of the scene unfold, allowing Cole and Varric to walk to Alistair's side without much thought, but not daring move herself. Thankfully, the Seeker went on a rigid rant and Gwen had an excuse to stay put, making the best attempt to listen.

Inside she was fighting the yearning to run away from the whole ordeal and save herself the embarrassment of Hawke's promised prize. Vainly, she hoped that Cullen would forget rogue's words and go about his day—far away from her.

Bets began changing hands and more of the crowd shuffled toward the triumphant Commander, patting his back in approval, until he started to walk across the ring.

Leaning against the fence, Gwen's sharp eyes saw him coming long before anyone else realized where he was headed.

"Damn."

Cassandra tilted her head and paused her speech. "What's the matter?"

Dropping her forehead into her palm she mumbled. "Maker's breath, I'm going to have to kiss him. I should make Hawke kiss him, really." She chuckled to herself at the image conjured in her head.

Cassandra's brows creased in concern. "Kiss _who_? Did I miss something?"

"Before you arrived, Hawke offered a kiss to the winner. _My_ kiss." An apprehensive shiver made its way through her body when she saw him closer, cutting through the crowd, but she stood tall. "I suppose it's too late to run now."

The Seeker turned to greet Cullen with pinched eyes, watching the interaction play out.

"Hello, Gwen _._ " The Commander sauntered to a stop beside her.

She smiled kindly, looking around. A few people in the crowd become aware of where the Commander was standing.

She spoke quietly. "Congratulations on your win."

"Thank you." He smirked and took a step closer to her.

"I suppose you want your… kiss." Gwen blushed, pushing her hair behind her ear.

Cassandra broke in. "It wasn't Hawke's right to offer it!"

"She's right." His hand came to the back of his neck as he spoke, but his smile grew as his eyes stared into Gwen's.

Studying him for a long moment before answering, she considered his words and body language: there was no pressure. Cullen was putting the power in her hands.

Pushing off the fence, she bit her lip apprehensively. Her choice was made. "Knowing Hawke, it could have been far worse… it's a just simple kiss to lift morale, right? Let's get it over with."

Cullen smirked and raised an amused eyebrow at her words.

"Inquisitor—" Cassandra's tone was worrisome.

Gwen nodded with certainty. "It's all right, I promise."

Then, with a quick step into Cullen's space, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips lightly to his before he could respond. Then she backed away, with her hands held tightly behind her.

Once a safe distance apart, she dared to glance up to his face and saw a displeased expression building. Shamefully, she turned away from him, but he took a bold step and reached out to gently hold her elbow.

"Wait." His voice rose and she spun to meet him. Faces in the crowd turned to the pair and watched excitedly, whispering. "That isn't at all what _I_ had in mind."

"O-" Her lips formed the word, but before she could complete the thought, Cullen had pulled her to him, his lips pressing firmly to hers with an untamed passion. His thumb ran along her jaw lightly, then his hand found a resting place at the back of her neck.

Gwen stiffened first and widened her eyes in surprise, then relaxed, realizing at that moment, being kissed felt good, being wanted felt great, and not being rejected felt amazing.

Against her better judgment, Gwen closed her eyes, while opening her mouth to invite him in, enjoying his fervor. Her hand touched his chest and as she did so, she felt him pull her closer, their bodies sharing his post-sparring warmth as they continued their slow movement on one another's lips. The crowd voiced their approval, but as soon as she heard it, Gwen came back down from the blissful feeling of the kiss and ended it abruptly, backing away from Cullen as the people surrounded the pair in excitement.

* * *

oOOOo

(Alistair's perspective, A few moments prior)

 

A crowd had gathered where Alistair, Hawke, Varric, and Cole sat on straw bales outside the Herald's Rest, obscuring the view of the rest of the courtyard. Many of the gamblers gave him a heartfelt slap on the back, wishing him better luck next time, or realizing who he was, insisted on shaking his hand and thanking him for his service to Ferelden. The sudden attention was embarrassing, yet humbling.

Touching his swollen lip, he felt the sting where his teeth hit the inside of his mouth and muttered aloud. "Tough luck, I suppose."

Hawke responded with a smirk. "You could have had him if you'd broken his nose with that head butt. Next time I'll make sure the blindfold I give you is made of sheer cloth."

"Sorry, but I'm not doing that ag—" Alistair began, but stopped short when the crowd by the ring erupted in hoots and hollers.

"He is claiming his prize." Cole droned out and pointed through the crowd.

_Shit._

Standing quickly, Alistair cut his way through the mass of people and felt his heart plummet at the scene before him: Gwen in Cullen's arms and the pair locked in a passionate kiss.

_Son of a bitch. He had no right!_

His fists clenched tightly and his features stiffened as he watched them finish with haste, smiling at one another awkwardly as the crowd cheered around them. Fuming, Alistair stood still and people walked around him, closing his path ahead. Comments on their Commander and Herald reached his ears, which only fueled a newfound jealous anger inside.

"They make a fine pairing; wouldn't you say?" An old woman whispered to her friend, standing close by.

The friend responded, emphatically. "Oh yes, a handsome couple indeed."

The Warden again pushed through the crowd, intent on approaching them. Cullen turned his head in time to see Alistair coming towards him, the Warden's countenance severe.

Attempting to settle his dispute with the least amount of strife, Alistair closed in and growled lowly in Cullen's ear. "Commander, that was completely uncalled for."

"Relax, man." He chuckled, still high from the kiss. "Don't be a sore loser."

"You had no right to take a kiss from Gwen."

Cullen was amused and cocked his head. "Are you jealous, Warden?"

"No. It just isn't right to take something without—"

"I asked her, she consented. " The Commander turned away from the Warden and greeted a soldier warmly with a handshake, then turned back with a sly grin. "Look, we're lifting morale."

Alistair paled and released his hands to his sides, taking a few steps away from the crowd gathering around Gwen and Cullen, a shred of hurt passed through him.

_How could she kiss him?_

Alistair found Gwen, who met his eyes with a timid, almost embarrassed smile. His heart dropped once more and his mind reached back to the recent memory: his reluctance to kiss her in the caves and his ultimate rejection, just a day ago.

Alistair hung his head, crestfallen. _I denied her, like the fool I am, that's how._

The man sighed at the sight of the Inquisitor, standing next to her Commander, and her people. She turned away from the Warden's frustrated gaze and began shaking the hands of some of the crowd. A few soldiers jested about the prospect of a winner's kiss at every bout.

Alistair watched her through the people to find her eyes again and as if willed, they darted to him. Her brows pinched apologetically and her lips thinned into a hesitant smile.

Unconsciously, he smiled back and the gesture made his heart creep slowly back up to its place.

A flicker of jealousy and want passed over him, before he squashed it down.

 _I'm over-reacting. I told her we couldn't begin anything... and it's better this way._ _This is her life, and she is absolutely radiant in it. She belongs here, beside someone else._

He suppressed the feelings, nodding to himself and taking a deep, calming breath. _I'm a Grey Warden. I belong with my fellows. To live beside them, and die beside them._

And yet, a small, secret piece of his heart yearned for her, and for the chance at real romance in his life. He chided himself harshly. _This is not the time. The rest of my short life needs to be lived with purpose._

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. _My duty is more important than my feelings._

_Right? Right, of course._

_Then, why am I standing here trying so hard to convince myself of it.  
_

With a resigned sigh, aching head, and throbbing jaw, the man retreated from the sparring yard before the crowd dispersed fully, intent on making it back to his room for a moment of rest.

.

Sitting before the fire, Alistair's mind fought for control: over the Calling and over his obvious growing feelings for the extraordinary Inquisitor.

He needed a respite.

In this place, he was the extra wheel, an novelty hero from ten years ago, and it was clear that Gwen didn't need his help in her daily duties as Inquisitor. This was her domain and he, only a circumstantial companion.

He spent time with former companion Hawke, which proved a fruitless endeavor, only inviting more discord into his complicated life.

He wasn't accustomed to sitting still with nothing to do, with no companionship to dull the pain of loneliness.

Alistair was feeling lost.

Lost, but not beaten.

Fumbling over thoughts of the last two weeks, he realized he pined for them: both spending time with Gwen and their adventures. Then, he remembered the Undercroft, and the wolf pelts he'd been given the night before. Amid those thoughts, a clear idea was born.

Alistair sat straighter, then stood with a sly smile.

The sun hung high in the sky and cast a shining hue over the garden as he left his room, slamming the door behind him with a bang. Without stopping, he made a quick, deliberate path to the Undercroft, which had recently open for the craftsmen. It was there that he spent the rest of his morning and afternoon, finally content to have a task worthy of his concentration.


	17. Roll with the Punches: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested: I have a new "story", called 'The Lost Darlings'. It's a place for one-shots that didn't (or won't) make it into 'Lost and Found' for one reason or another, and I just couldn't bear to discard them completely. It's nothin' fancy, just a fun little side project that I'll add to along the way to completing this fic. :)
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos!

 

xXXXx

 

Soon after the kiss and its consequences, Gwen excused herself from the courtyard. She fled to the comfort of her quarters for a moment of quiet reprieve after being flustered and embarrassed by her actions.

She'd lost Alistair in the crowd, and berated herself for her rash decision to let Hawke's promise become fulfilled. Recalling the embrace, her insides pinched with guilt as she climbed to the top of her stairs. She hadn't intended to kiss the Commander like that, but in the moment, it truly felt good.

Cullen was a handsome man, and the two had known each other since the beginning of the Inquisition, but there was something missing between them. He didn't stir her heart into a frenzy like Alistair did, nor did he inspire a weightless feeling when their eyes met.

In her mind, she recalled the split second of hurt in Alistair's honey-brown eyes.

Leaping up the last few stairs, she crossed her room quickly and opened the doors to the balcony. The wind tore past her and she closed her eyes to it, breathing in the cool mountain breeze.

Opening her eyes, she nearly yelled at herself. "What the hell was I thinking?! I have to explain to Cullen that it was a mistake before he thinks... Maker, I wonder what he must think of me."

Suddenly, the mark on her hand flared angrily and she scowled at it. "Oh, _behave._ "

Stomping to her desk, Gwen grabbed a pair of thin gloves and shoved them onto her hands forcibly, still feeling the twinge on her palm beneath the leather.

"I need to talk to Cullen."

She found her schedule for the day and traced her finger down the list until she found her next appointment: _Midday meeting: Tactical._

"Perfect."

.

Hurrying across the bridge above the market stands, she saw him coming toward her with a folder in his hand, walking in an easy stride, and back in his usual distinguished armor.

"Inquisitor?" Cullen tilted his head in confusion, picking up his feet to greet her. When he closed in, he looked at her with a knowing stare. "You're coming to talk about earlier, aren't you?"

"Yes."

He lowered his voice and took a step closer to her. "Not a scolding, I hope."

She laughed nervously. "No."

"Good." Cullen sighed with relief and shook his head. "Cassandra had a few words for me after the fight. I'm supposed to… _apologize_ to you. So, I'm sorry things got out of hand this morning. It won't happen again."

"Accepted." Gwen then pinched her brows with concern. "She didn't reprimand you too harshly, I hope."

Cullen's mouth turned up at the corner. "The woman has conviction worthy of admiration, and I suspect she makes a loyal friend."

Gwen nodded, smiling at the thought of Cassandra protecting her virtue. "All true."

Shaking the smile away, he gestured to the main hall. "I have to prep the map for the Tactical Meeting. Join me on the walk?"

"This can't wait."

Cullen narrowed his eyes and shifted his feet, stifling a mild irritation at having to delay his plans. "Go on."

With a breathy sigh, she blurted out everything on her mind. "This morning…the kiss, well, I only kissed you back because it felt good to be _really_ kissed after so long and for that, I'm the one who should be sorry."

Cullen's mouth hung open for a moment, and he rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling at their predicament. Gracefully, he leaned toward her and lifted his eyebrow. "It was a good kiss, and I haven't been kissed in a long time either. I took a chance that you'd enjoy it, considering…"

"Considering what?"

He cleared his throat. "Rumor has it that your affections for a certain man are not reciprocated. Though, judging by his reaction after the fight, I'd say he's conflicted."

Gwen shook her head, and covered her face with her hands. "Who spreads these rumors?"

"They'll be rampant after this morning's display." Cullen smirked. "I am curious though, why did you agree to kiss me? It seems a little beneath you to play that game with a man."

"Alistair has made it clear that we can't… that nothing can come of us. So, it wasn't a play of any sort." Playfully, she chided the towering man beside her, gazing into his smiling eyes. "I will remind you: the first kiss I gave you was very chaste. _You_ felt you needed to elaborate on it."

Cullen laughed heartily. "Alright, if we're being honest, I should tell you that I knew I'd only get that one chance."

"So, you took it?"

He looked almost offended by her questioning tone. "Damn right, I took it."

Gwen grinned at his fervor, under a flush of pink. "I appreciate your honesty, Cullen."

"And I yours." He laughed, adding a whisper before they started walking again. "Glad you enjoyed the kiss as much as I did."

.

As it usually was, the tactical meeting was short and to the point, much like the Commander himself. Cullen agreed to send a troop of thirty soldiers, led by Rylen, into the Western Approach with the Inquisitor, and this notion set Gwen at ease. It meant that they'd have the numbers to act once they arrived in the desert, and it was worth mentioning to Alistair when she saw him.

Gwen appreciated Cullen's stringent use of time as it allowed her a break after the meeting to do whatever she please. Strolling down the hall from the War Room, she collected her thoughts.

The Western Approach plan was nearly ready for enactment and she assumed that her advisors would send her off within a few days, but there were still places to visit and people to see around the keep.

Pushing the thought away, she reached the main hall and glanced down the nearly empty corridor. In a quick step, she made for her destination.

* * *

 

oOOOo

 

"What are _you_ doing down here?"

When the Inquisitor's voice reached Alistair's ears, a slight panic flew over him and he hurried to pull a cloth over his work space. Hastily, he walked to meet her. "Ah, nothing in particular. I thought I should seek more worthwhile ways to end my boredom than… well, you remember this morning."

"I do." She dropped her eyes, almost forgetting the sparring bout in the confusion of seeing him in the Undercroft.

Curiosity restored, she attempted to peer around him. "What are you working on?"

He scooted in front of her. "Boring things, like, uh, oiling my leather for our trip and helping Dagna out with some of easy jobs."

Alistair gestured to the man at the next workbench. "Lem, over there has been teaching me the know-how."

"That's wonderful." Gwen's smile was genuine.

He crossed his arms over his chest and sat on the front of the table, further obscuring her view. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, I stop by periodically to see what Dagna has for me. She makes the most interesting contraptions."

"The dwarf has talent," he smirked, "especially when it comes to making trinkets for you."

Gwen stifled a grin, but knew he spoke the truth. "She makes things for _all_ of us."

Alistair squinted and pointed to the side wall where there stood an exact body double of the Inquisitor, down to the individual fingers. "Not everyone has their own mannequin in the Undercroft."

She hid her eyes with her hand and grumbled. "I told her to put that thing away. It's embarrassing."

Smiling, she opened her mouth to speak, but his words hit the air before hers.

"I should really get back to my work."

"Right." Gwen nodded, then hesitantly continued her thought. "Should… we talk about this morning first?"

Pursing his full lips, he lowered his eyes. "I know it was a stupid way to occupy my time, I regret putting myself into the position."

"I thought the whole thing was rather harmless," she said succinctly, staring at the dirty floor.

"Tell that to my swollen lip." Alistair cracked a smile, easing into his next point. "After the fight, the people in the crowd... they let on that you and Cullen would make a good couple."

Gwen's eyes rose to meet his honey-brown eyes as they studied her. Immediately, her face plastered with concern. "I'm not _interested_ in the Commander, Alistair."

"Hhm."

Close behind them, she heard shuffling amid the sound of other workers. Craning her neck, she saw Harritt lift his wily eye, and harrumph quietly. Professionalism taking over, she straightened her spine. "We shouldn't talk about this here."

Hopeful, he lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. "We could go somewhere, before tea with Leliana."

"I _completely_ forgot." Gwen rubbed her eyes, covering her face in shame. "Josephine has me busy for the afternoon."

"Again?" Alistair frowned, his composure faltering. "What about Leliana?"

"She'll understand. I don't have the time, but I could meet you afterwards."

He leaned in, speaking in a low, tight, and derisive voice. "And yet, you seem to have had _plenty_ of time to give favors to your Commander."

Clenching her fists, she took a step closer to him, narrowing her eyes in anger, her mark flaring again from beneath her glove. She held it behind her back as she said her piece. "For the last time: I didn't ask to kiss him! There was a chance _you'd_ win. I even said a silent prayer that you would be victorious despite your feelings on the matter!"

Alistair stood silent, then dropped his eyes and leaned onto the table. "You _enjoyed_ kissing him." His words reached her ears with an accusing tone.

She turned away from him, embarrassed. Without replying to his accusation, she pressed the conversation back to him. "Is this jealousy coming from the man who told me anything between us would be impossible?"

Irritated, he answered, huffing lightly. "I'm not... jealous. I'm more confused. You said… things to me yesterday. Were they untrue?"

"Do you really think so little of me? That I'm just a fickle girl, ready to swoon at any handsome man thrown in my path?"

"What? No! You're putting words in my mouth."

Drawing close to him to suppress her voice, she continued and squeezed her fist shut in anticipation of another outburst from the mark. "I did the most diplomatic thing I could do, and kissed him. Yes! I enjoyed it. No, I don't want to pursue the man! Maker's breath! It was only a kiss!"

Alistair shook his head, curbing his irritation. "I just don't understand it, but this is your life, and you can do whatever you want."

"Just so we're clear: 'whatever I _want'_ doesn't include Cullen, regardless of what you think. You could have asked me about this without being childish. We're supposed to be friends."

Alistair watched her eyes darting back and forth to his, her expression sullen. "We _are_ friends."

"I wish that were the truth, but I can see our relationship wavering." Calming herself down, she attempted to meet his eye. "You're right that we should talk privately, I just can't right now and I want you to understand that."

"Despite my words, I do." He nodded, feeling wretched.

Several times, the mark pulsed rhythmically, this time as she was calming down, not getting riled up. The aberrant action concerned her and she shuffled backwards, intent on putting some space between herself and the obviously irritated man before her. "Now, I should really go. Tell Dagna I was by, when you see her."

"I will."

Gwen flitted away in the next moment, leaving Alistair alone with his leather-work. He caught sight of Lem coming toward him, and pulled the cover from the table to start finding the place he left off.

A low gravelly voice interrupted him. "You've got yourself a situation, if I ever saw one."

The Warden grumbled as he lay out a pattern atop the wolf hide. "What are you talking about?"

"The Inquisitor's a hell of a woman, you'd be a fool to let her go."

"We're allies, working together toward a common goal." Smoothing out the leather, his squinting eyes shot up to the older man. "And quiet down; she hates rumors."

Lem shrugged and placed his hands on the leather while Alistair marked the cutting lines. "I said my piece."

* * *

 

oOOOo

 

"Hello? Excuse me for bothering you, but do you know where I might find Leliana. I was directed here, but I got a bit turned around." Alistair fumbled over the words, as a middle-aged elven woman turned to face him, first with surprise, then with curious eyes.

Fiona blinked, shaking her head as her answer came softly from smiling lips. She pointed gracefully toward the stairs. "She… she can be found in the Rookery, just one floor up."

"Oh. Thank you, ma'am." He flashed her a grin and stepped away.

"You are… the newest Grey Warden to grace Skyhold, no?"

Turning back to her, he nodded. "That I am." He looked down to his plain clothes and furrowed his brow. "How did you know?"

"Why, the eyes and ears of Skyhold told me, of course." She motioned a hand around her, smirking all the while.

Alistair smiled genuinely, then gave her a farewell bow of his head. "Well, I don't want to be late."

The elf continued to stare at him with intense eyes. "May I ask you a question, before you leave?"

He nodded, halting by the stair.

"Do you… enjoy your life?"

With pride, and a tilt of his head, he answered her, "As a Grey Warden, yes. I have never known a better home than with them. That's the reason I'm here actually: I'm trying to save them, despite their attempts to impede me."

With pensive eyes, she gave him a small bow. "Then, I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, young man."

.

Alistair bounded up the stairs. The noises from the crows grew substantially as he cautiously peeked his head over the last of the stone steps.

The bard sat with her quill dancing quietly over the parchment in front of her. "I see you there, Alistair. I'll be right with you."

Once finished, she walked to one of the many cages in the Rookery and opened its small door. Leading one of her pets to her arm, she brought it back to her desk and motioned for her Warden friend to sit. "Do you like my birds?"

"They're certainly an interesting hobby."He took his seat hesitantly, glancing around at the droppings on the floor. "Though, I think I preferred the lute."

Leliana raised an eyebrow as she attached the note to the crow's foot. "You think you are _so_ humorous."

"Yes, but I rarely am, right?" The man sighed, resting his pounding head in his hands.

"Oh no, what troubles you?"

Alistair's low groan came muffled from behind his hands. "And I'm apparently transparent as well."

Leliana smiled and gave the bird a gentle pat on the back, before it hopped to the window and flew away with a soft caw. "Some things never change."

The rogue then tilted her head to her friend who revealed his amber eyes. "I think perhaps you are bothered by the infamous kiss between Gwen and Cullen. Hmm?"

"Can we not mention _that?_ " Alistair rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair.

"If it makes you feel better, I could tell you that she did not appear to enjoy it."

The Warden shook his head. "No, that won't do. She admitted as much."

She shook her head along with him and looked around to the stairs. "Where is she? I sent her a missive this morning. I thought the three of us could enjoy tea."

"She's _indisposed_."

"She _is_ the Inquisitor. You always pick the impossible ones." Her lips grew into a smile.

Alistair shook his head, dismissing the bard's insinuation. "I didn't pick—we're not—we're just friends, Leliana."

"Then why are you so rattled over one little kiss."

She then stood up firmly, rounded her desk, and pulled the Grey Warden by the arm to follow her. "Come. We can speak more of this when we reach our destination."

.

The Spymaster slipped silently through the door to the kitchens, with her confused quarry in tow. The room was busy with staff preparing the evening meal and the pair moved through almost unnoticed. A handsome, black-haired young man stopped them just feet away from their destination: a small door on the side of the room.

Alistair watched a concise communication unfold, observing the changes ten years had on his former traveling companion.

Dropping a small pouch into Leliana's hand, the boy spoke with a sly grin. "Here."

Weighing it, she nodded. "Tonight good for you?"

"The usual place?" He responded, tilting his head.

The redhead closed in, poking the young man in the well of his shoulder. "I only ask that you don't waste my time like last week. You practiced?"

He beamed at her. "I had the Mirella entranced the day before yesterday, ask anyone."

"Good, but I'm not a simple kitchen girl. I hope to see true improvement or my lessons, they will stop—" The bard stepped deeper into his space, until she noticed his uneasiness, and took a graceful step to the side.

Leliana then softened, asking sweetly. "Pardon me, now isn't the time to discuss this. Bring us tea in a few, would you?"

A wash of relief came over the young man's paling face and he nodded, "Of course."

Leliana barely waited for his response before she directed Alistair to the small door. It led them across a long, attic storeroom lined with food and other crated supplies. At the end of the room there was another miniature door, and opening it, the Warden felt the breeze upon his face immediately.

They were atop a small balcony, where the kitchen stove pipes vented steam and initially obscured his view. The rogue took lead and pulled her ally to a few crates at the end of the roof which overlooked the stables and the expanse of the Frostback mountains beyond.

"What a view." Alistair was distracted, and he sat roughly on a box, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Opening the drawstring bag in the middle of the crate between them, Leliana set to work, laying out a simple afternoon snack of soft biscuits, hard boiled eggs, and a jar of pickled turnips. There was a fork, cloth napkins, and the large pouch among the contents. The Warden turned his head back to the makeshift table in between them and lifted the pouch, which jingled with coin.

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "What did I see back there between you and the boy?"

The rogue blinked innocently, placing her hands in her lap. "He pays for lessons."

"Lessons in what, exactly." The man reached a hand out to grab a brown shelled egg from the array. Rolling it on the tabletop, he shook his head and scowled. "Ugh, do I want to even know?"

With a devilish grin, she chuckled in response. "The _lute_ , Alistair. I teach him to play the lute. Little deviant doesn't practice enough though." She took a biscuit and broke a small piece off, nibbling it while rolling her eyes.

"Do you like teaching?"

Pulling her hood back, she lifted her eyebrows at her companion. "Teaching the young has its unique rewards, besides the coin, mind you. Their minds are far more pliable than adults, but they can be loathsome little shits at times."

"Hmmph. I wonder, what else are you teaching him besides music? Perhaps to be another set of eyes and ears for you in the kitchens?" Alistair shook his head again, attempting to peel the egg in one long strip. "For a moment there, I thought perhaps you taught him because you enjoyed it."

Popping another bite in her mouth, Leliana's head tilted in disappointment and she placed her hand atop his, squeezing gently. "You really have changed. Where is the optimistic, lovable young man I once knew?"

Alistair's face grew half serious. "He died on the roof of Fort Drakon, with the Archdemon."

"Don't be so bleak, it doesn't suit you." The rogue tilted her chin down, disapprovingly. "No, he is still in there, hidden behind this mask you wear. Perhaps all you need is someone to pull the mask away… perhaps someone has already begun the daunting task." She squeezed his hand again, removing it when she felt him pull away.

Alistair gazed out on the horizon, quiet for a moment, as he absorbed the view of the mountains below.

Leliana took an egg from the collection of food and tapped it gently on the makeshift table. "Did you know that we have an encampment in the valley?"

"No." He answered, disinterested, turning to pick up the larger of two remaining biscuits. "Should I have?"

"I was unsure which path you took through the mountains." Leliana shrugged, nonchalantly. "We recently built little cabins, much like the ones we had in Haven. Many of our guests reside there. It's less than an hour away on horseback. There's a lovely view on the way down: the tributary riverbanks glisten in the afternoon sun. Then of course there's the sunset over the mountains... breathtaking."

The rogue searched Alistair's eyes for a moment before continuing slowly. "They even built a small tavern, so the people don't have to travel to Skyhold for evening entertainment. The kitchen boy, he plays there some nights. It's a quiet, cozy spot." She trailed off, still capturing his gaze.

"That's… nice?" The Warden lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

"I'm unsure if Gwen has seen it." Leliana nodded slowly.

Alistair nodded with her, narrowing his eyes. "You—you think I should take her."

"What a splendid idea, Alistair!" The redhead crooned, her grin widening.

He narrowed his eyes and tossed his thumb behind him. "Did I not just tell you in the Rookery, that Gwen and I are merely friends?"

"You did." Leliana drew out the words, studying his movements and features closely, before nodding and continuing, "But your actions say far more than your poor lies."

"I am not lying, Leliana." He coughed, wiping the spray of crumbs from his lap. "There's nothing going on."

"Of course not." The bard smiled, dropping her eyes. "Tell me, what do you think of our illustrious leader?"

Alistair proceeded with caution, careful not to reveal more than professionalism. He knew what the trickster before him was trying to do. "Not that my opinion as an outsider matters much, but she's… intelligent, strong willed, and I think she's growing into the leader you need."

"Nothing more to say than that?" Leliana scoffed and began a tirade on the virtues of their mutual friend. "Maker, she's brilliant! And much more than that: she's resilient, thoughtful, eager, and not to mention a skilled mage. Her research is impeccable—I use every bit that she sends me. That woman is amazing."

Amid the rant, the Warden loosened his shoulders and stopped eating his biscuit. His eyes lowered to it, where it lay in his hands, while the corner of his mouth twitched into a traitorous smile.

Her tender whisper broke him out of his thoughts. "I can see that you agree."

The Warden clenched his jaw and his fists, squeezing the biscuit to crumbles in the process. Honey-brown eyes danced back and forth to read his companion's elated stare, until he closed them briefly and sighed, brushing the crumbs from his hands. "Can you be serious for a minute?"

The bard feigned insult. "You wound me; I am nearly always serious."

Alistair sat forward with his elbows on his knees and his head dropped in defeat.

With genuine care, Leliana placed her hand on her old friend's back. "My goodness, what has you so forlorn?"

Without looking at his companion, he responded dismally. "I _do_ like her, but—"

"Hah! I _knew_ you would! The two of you make a good match." The rogue smiled proudly. "And I know she likes you. I don't see a problem here."

In a pinched voice, he revealed a secret to the spy. "She kissed me, and well, I kissed her back, but then I told her we can't be more than friends."

"Oh." She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Why would you do that?!"

"He-ey!" His head lifted and eyes flew up to meet the bard's soft blue orbs. "This isn't anything but an infatuation for her; it'll pass in time."

"Alistair, are you listening to yourself, even if it is infatuation, why not pursue it?"

In a solemn stare, he spoke weary words. "The Calling. It lingers behind everything I do and say. I'm forcing myself to concentrate on you even now."

Leliana searched his eyes with care. With shocking realization, she whispered, "Maker, you're _afraid_."

Alistair dropped his eyes in an instant. "I'm essentially a dead-man if we don't fix this and even if we do, when the real Calling comes, I go to the Deep Roads. How am I supposed to tell her that? I like you, oh, and by the way, I'll be dead in ten years, maybe more."

The Spymaster tipped her chin to him. "Don't you think it's a bit premature. That's a decade from now, Alistair!"

"I know," he remarked back to her, affronted.

"You're being ridiculous. Stop thinking about the distant future; Relax in the present, and have fun with Gwen. Goodness knows she needs it."

"I don't want something _casual_. I want... Maker, I don't know what I want."

"Well, that much is clear."

"Listen to me," the man paused, staring at his hands as his words came soft and sincere. "Somewhere between Crestwood, the travel to Skyhold, and the last two days, I've come to realize that she's… the kind of woman that I would like to know more deeply than a few weeks worth of time together would allow."

Leliana closed her eyes briefly and a flicker of sorrow passed over her face. "Oh."

"Yes, well... you can see my predicament then, seeing as I have so little time with her _and_ I'm distracted... I think it best if I ignore that realization and keep to my mission. I've confused her enough already. "

The bard crooned softly, aware of her companion's vulnerable admission. "There is a bond between the two of you, one that I surmise will last beyond your time with us and I believe that Gwen would be equally distraught at losing you, friend or lover."

The man raised his head, breathing deeply through his nose. "Perhaps."

"Don't you think she should make the decision for herself? Perhaps she thinks you're worth the pain."

"I... suppose."

"You deserve a little romance in your life, Alistair." Leliana trailed off, continuing to pick at her biscuit.

He queried on the dangerous memories of the past. "You don't feel _guilty_ about Mihna, do you?"

"No. She would not have made a good match for you." The bard spoke softly. "You need a kind woman, one who is gentle and patient. Someone who can stand on their own and yet will require your tenderness in weak moments, and vice versa. Mihna is none of those things."

She reached again out to place a hand atop his, gripping it while she spoke. " _Gwen_ is all of those things."

His mouth lifted into a jerky smile. "She is, isn't she?"

"And so much more. I have known you both for longer that you have known one another." She sent him a sly smile. "When your name came up in our conversations, I saw the potential for a great friendship, possibly more."

Alistair's brow furrowed with thought. "I need time to think this through."

"I know, heed my words, but remember, this decision needs to come from you, not me."

Behind them the small door opened, and the dark haired young man ducked with a small tray in his hand. After placing the steaming tea, he left quickly and the pair began to speak again once they were sure he was well away from them.

Alistair creased his brow and nodded. "What about my duty to the Grey Wardens? I can't just leave them to be with her."

She laughed willfully. "Love is not a binding chain, look at Mihna and myself. And besides, aren't you being hunted by your fellows?"

"They're out _looking_ for me. I drew the line when they started using blood magic." He clenched his fists. "I need to figure out exactly what's going on, in all truth. I need to get to the Western Approach."

Asking the obvious question, Leliana grinned. "And who has volunteered, nay, _promised_ to help you even before her feelings for you were known?"

The man's eyes softened. "Gwen."

"I think she can sense your devotion to your order. I know she felt the same about her Circle, and yet lost it to the war. She understands duty more than you realize."

The man nodded, thankful. "You've given me something to consider, as you have done in the past, thank you."

" _De rien_." Leliana popped a piece of egg into her mouth, pleased by his change of demeanor since they arrived on the rooftop. Grabbing a cloth, she lifted the teapot and poured black tea into each of the two cups. A small jar of honey sat on the tray and she placed a small dollop in the cups, along with a splash of cream. Stirring each, she sat back on the crate to allow the hot beverage to cool before partaking.

"So..." Alistair relaxed his shoulders, easing their conversation to other matters. "You've been busy these last years."

She smirked, continuing to pick at her food, but otherwise sitting quite still. "I suppose so."

The man chuckled softly at her controlled body language. "Imagine my surprise when Gwen mentioned the young ginger bard from my troupe was Sister Nightingale _and_ The Left hand of the Divine."

The rogue lifted her eyebrow. "You didn't know?"

"Nope. I'd heard stories and read reports of your various involvements across the map." Alistair shrugged. "Now though, I feel as if I should have made the connec-"

With a jarring slam, the young man from the kitchen burst through the door again, and Leliana walked swiftly to meet him. They stood away from the Warden and spoke in hushed tones. After he left, she strolled back to him, dismayed. "I'm sorry; I'm needed elsewhere."

"I should stop trying to make plans while I'm here." Waving his hand at the untouched cups of tea before them.

The rogue tipped her head at him and scowled in rebuke.

Timid, Alistair apologized. "That came out more aggressive than I meant, sorry. You're Spymaster first."

She closed in, taking a quick seat next to him and gazing into his kind eyes. "Yes, but I'm still your friend and I have one last piece of advice."

"Being here is a single step toward your goal; A few days more and you'll be gone. Take the time to consider what you want, now and in the future; I suspect you'll have little time to do so in the coming months."

The man tilted his head at her.

Tipping her chin down to him, Leliana spoke plainly. "I'm speaking of Gwen specifically: what do you want from her?"

He huffed out the words. "I can't answer that."

Leliana continued in a disapproving tone. "If you should decide to stay friends, stop leading her on. The last thing she needs is a broken heart."

"I promise, I won't break her heart."

"Good." The rogue rose and turned on her heel gracefully, taking a few steps for the door, calling out before she opened it. "You know your way back, no?"

Aloof, Alistair nodded and in the next moment she was gone.

Sighing, he took a spoon from the tea tray and stirred his cup with a new, preoccupied mind. In a few swallows, he downed the tea and examined the rest of the food with a keen eye. He spoke aloud to himself, half grumbling. "I can't believe she didn't bring cheese."

Picking up the jar on the table, he examined its contents. With a shrug he broke the wax seal on the jar and skewered a pickled vegetable with a fork, popping half the wedge into his mouth as he watched the sun drift slowly toward the mountains beyond. The sourness did nothing to sate his hunger, nor his frustration, even after eating the contents of the entire jar.

He left the rest of the luncheon where it lay on the makeshift table and retreated to his room to ready himself for dinner and as well as mull over what the bard had said.

.

Alistair opened the door to his guestroom and found a note atop the bedside table with his name on it, written in elegant script.

Snatching the letter in his hand, he walked to the easy chair by the roaring fire and threw himself down onto its soft cushion.

Tapping the note on his thigh, he tugged impatiently at his ear, and finally opened it, expecting the worst.

 

…

_Alistair,_

_I barely finished my work before Josephine brought a very elite individual into the meeting room. He requested to speak with me personally, and has had much to say as we are still in talks. This could be a great ally for the Inquisition, even Leliana was called in, having some rapport with the man._

_I have a feeling this will continue into the evening, but I feel like we left things unsaid in the Undercroft. I keep going back to what you said yesterday about not wanting this relationship to be reduced to guarded professionalism, and I can't agree more. We make good friends, and I want that back._

_We need to make sure this friendship is on solid ground again before we venture into the Western Approach together. Our duty takes precedence over all else, and we can't be upset with one another when there is more at stake._

_I may be bold in requesting this, but if you want to speak with me tonight, meet me outside the door to my quarters at the quiet bell. I'll be there waiting for you, but if you don't show, I'll understand._

_Gwen_

…

 

Strong, nimble fingers gripped the letter tightly, and with his other hand, Alistair gripped his chin in consternation. "What exactly _do_ I want?"

* * *

 

oOOOo

 

A lithe servant woman stepped quietly from the Inquisitor's quarters into the dimly lit and quiet throne room. Dropping a small laundry bag to the ground, she turned a key in the lock and bent down to pick up the bundle.

Alistair lifted his head from his place, seated on the platform that held the Inquisitor's throne-chair . He jumped up at the presence of the woman and stalked over to her.

"Will she be returning?" He blurted out, startling the woman as she rose from the ground with the laundry bag.

Confused and a little fearful, she answered, "The Inquisitor?"

He nodded.

"I don't think so, Serah."

"Damn." He hissed out a whisper.

"Pardon, Serah?"

"There's no chance you'd… let me up there, is there?" He lifted an eyebrow to her.

The woman scowled at him. "I don't make a habit of letting strange men into her worship's quarters after dark. So, no, _Serah._ "

Awkwardly, Alistair responded, bringing his hand up to his neck and tugging at his ear. "That's very good of you. Thank you, and... never mind any of this, _please._ "

She nodded and scampered away with her bundle.

The Warden let out a sigh. He'd been waiting since the last bell rang, and the minutes stretched on endlessly. _Maybe she fell asleep._

Alistair strolled back to the center of the main hall, pacing as his thoughts ran wild.

_She's just late; she said she'd be here and she will be._

_What am I going to say to her when we're finally alone?_

_An apology should do..._

Amid his distracting thoughts, a small shape emerged from the Inquisitor's quarters and silently shut the door.

She wore her thick, grey wool cloak over white leather leggings and a deep green, long-sleeved, belted tunic that hung to her mid-thigh. On her feet were thin, cream colored, woolen slippers with leather soles. Creeping up on the troubled man, the woman spoke softly to ease herself into his presence.

"Alistair?" Gwen's quiet voice echoed off the walls and she looked around before smiling. "I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?"

Startled but happy, he walked toward her. "No, not long."

Tilting her chin toward the double doors at the end of the main hall, she started down the corridor. "How about a walk?"

Nodding, he took a deep, shaky breath and followed.

* * *

 

xoXOxo

 

As they stepped out into the cool air, the Warden offered his arm and with a hesitant smile, the Inquisitor took it, touching him carefully. He tucked her hand away gently and they took to the stairs. The descent was slow and Gwen stole several glances over to him, noticing his posture ease into relaxation with every forward movement. The courtyard fell under their feet and Gwen pulled them to a stop, dropping her arm from his grasp.

"You're different."

Pretending to be taken aback, he turned to meet her green eyes, deep sage now from the lack of bright light. "Am I?"

" _Yes_. You were flustered, angry even, when we spoke in the Undercroft." Gwen's heart jumped at the way he looked at her, his eyes focused and on the edge of cheer. "Did something happen since then?

"I had tea with Leliana, and the evening to think." Finding his feet very interesting at that moment, his gaze fell. "She may have cleared up a few… concerns I had, but there's still more to consider..."

Gwen grinned, interrupting him with a noise akin to a squeal. "I love that woman."

Lifting his eyebrows, he chuckled at the outburst. "There, we can agree."

"It must've been an interesting conversation."

"Well," Alistair shifted his stance, wincing slightly at her comment.

Observing his discomfort, she interrupted him. "Never mind."

"You're sure?"

Gwen nodded passionately. " _Yes_. To the void with my curiosity tonight; I want to let everything go and simply take a walk with a friend."

Relieved, he gave her a thankful smile. "Then that's exactly what we'll do."

She pointed to a set of stairs ascending to the battlements a little way from where they were standing. "This way."

Without a word, he took a step toward her and offered his arm again. This time, she took it eagerly and continued to lead them up to the battlements. As she held him in a loose grip, she felt the mark react and clenched her fist.

Reaching the top, the winds grew, whipping the cool, fragrant air against their skin. They stood still together, looking out over the expanse of her domain: windows were lit all over, as well as sparse torches along the walking paths, and all the bits of light collected into a warm radiance, illuminating Skyhold in a dim glow.

Above the lighted yard, they could barely see one another, and Gwen held tight to him again, both fearing the mark's flare and not wanting to lose this new version of him in the dark.

Humming with childish delight, she spoke without thinking, "The sky is so clear tonight. I want to…"

Smiling, his voice lilted with interest, "You want to what?"

Gwen cringed as the words left her mouth. "Well, I was going to say stargaze... but-"

A curiosity sparked in Alistair's eyes and he pulled at her arm, still nestled under his. "Let's do it, then."

Taking their time, they strolled the battlements, finding an alcove off the main walkway that housed several crates. It was mostly quiet and dark, though they could hear soft mumbled voices and music on the air from the tavern nearby. Alistair released her arm, taking her hand to help lower her to the nearest crate. He took the one next to her and they both sat back against the boxes.

Time went by with silence between them, each wondering what to say and both equally reluctant to break the magic of the simple, beautiful night.

Alistair craned his head, sighing deeply as he panned the sky. "Maker, I haven't felt this way since I was a boy."

Her whisper cut through the dark. "How so?"

He turned toward her, making out the curve of her face and the glint in her eyes. "I feel free, in a way: there's time for pausing to stare at the stars. A consequence of having no clear path, I suppose."

"Oh." The disappointment was clear in her voice.

"No, it's not a bad feeling. Not tonight anyway." Easing into his next point, his throat tightened. "I should've tried to do something worthwhile instead of wasting time with Hawke. I'm… sorry about earlier."

She repeated her former words, not wanting to start on that thread of discussion again. "The fight was harmless."

"What I meant is that... I'm sorry, for the way I acted towards you in the Undercroft."

"Oh." With a secret smile, she responded, "I'm sorry too."

"Yes, well, at least now we can move past it." He chuckled softly. "I don't think I've ever been so eager for a single day to end."

The woman sighed with relief. "I quite agree."

Flooded with questions, Gwen bit her tongue for the moment. The time didn't feel right for asking him about the change in his attitude, and she supposed that if he wanted to talk about it, he'd broach the subject on his own terms. She was quite content to enjoy sitting in the dark with him, staring at the constellations.

As they lounged, the winds had increased, sending Gwen's hair whipping about. Covering her mouth with her hand, she yawned quietly and caught Alistair turning his head to see her in the dim light.

Turning to him, she smiled. "Do you want to walk again?"

"Where to?"

"Somewhere with less wind." She pulled at her hair, attempting to gather it over one shoulder.

"Sure." He smiled in earnest, holding out his hand to her.

Gwen took it and felt his fingers curl around her palm. She rose to her feet, and expected him to let go, but he held on. Alistair guided her across the ramparts and to the stairs leading into the courtyard. Her heart leapt, she felt her face heat up, and she was thankful for the dark to mask it. Inwardly, she scolded herself for this immaturity; they were only holding hands. The implication of the action was weighing on her thoughts and she had to force herself to calm down, lest she agitate the mark.

With casual grace, he moved her hand again to his arm as they descended the stairs.

Alistair turned to her, his face warmly lit from lamplight in the yard. His lip curled into a smirk as he studied her expression of curiosity. "Tell me about the rest of your day."

"Very boring." Gwen chuckled and pulled him toward the stables. "Oh, but the Tactical meeting was informative."

"How so?"

"Cullen... he's decided to send thirty soldiers with us to the desert, led by Knight- Captain Rylen."

Alistair furrowed his brow, his voice hitching with relief. "That's... wonderful news."

"The troop leaves tomorrow with supplies and arms, and we'll be leaving the day after next." Sensing the change in his disposition, she jiggled at his arm. "We can finally start on your quest."

"Yes." They continued to walk past the empty market tables. "The Inquisition... and _you_ have done so much for me. I can't repay you for any of it."

"And you'll never need to. Your cause is just, and the fate of the Grey Wardens affects us all."

"Thank you."

Passing through the empty market, they courted silently and slowly, savoring the new sensation of each other's simple touch. There was a pleasant banality to the act, which they both delighted in. The days to come wouldn't be so casual.

Ahead of them was black with night, and Alistair pulled back on her arm easily until they looped around through the market again towards a light at the end of the strip.

Gwen's voice was soft and low, and barely disrupted their peace. "Do you miss the Grey Wardens?"

"I do. They're... my family." Alistair slowed his feet and they stood together in the dark market. "I probably shouldn't admit this, but I feel almost lost without them."

Gwen pulled him toward the large barn they'd passed which was lit by a single lantern by the door. The light was low and it was still difficult to see one another, but there was an appealing stack of straw bales resting there, and so they sat.

"Why did you speak out then? You must've known the Wardens would react like this."

"I didn't, honestly." His voice was dull and quiet. "I don't _blame_ any of them. We all swore to follow the Warden Commander. I disobeyed a direct order and my claims against blood magic were considered _dangerous_."

"Dangerous?"

"I've seen what blood magic can do to mages and I didn't want the Wardens to be part of that." The man's voice changed abruptly, to a growl. "It disgusted me, and I didn't hide it. Clarel worried that I might sway others."

Carefully, she responded. "I haven't seen it used many times, but I agree that there's something unsettling about it."

Turning his head to her, he went on with the same vehemence. "There was a blood mage rebellion at Kinloch Hold during the Blight. That's where I first met... the Commander."

"I-I knew he was there; he doesn't speak about it."

Softening his voice, he leaned back onto the bale. "It was bad. Blood mages were turning their colleagues into abominations, making deals with demons, who then ran loose tormenting their victims. Cullen was tortured for Maker knows how long."

Quickly, he added, "I probably shouldn't be telling you this."

Gwen nodded in the dark. Leaning back, she brushed into Alistair's shoulder. "Let the mysteries of the past rest. He deserves that much."

"Yes... It's hard to believe it's been ten years." Alistair let out a cold chuckle. "You were at the Circle in...?"

"Ostwick." She blushed, realizing that while Alistair was slaying demons, she was barely a teenager. "I'd been there about a year."

"What were you like back then?"

The woman let out a short laugh. "I was fourteen, and mired in the thoughts only a young girl could be. I remember missing my father terribly."

"Only your father?"

"The rest of my family treated me differently after my magic came." She quieted her voice, not letting the emotion slip through. "Not my father though, he told me it was a _gift._ I suspect he said that to keep a young girl from fearing herself."

"I'm sorry."

Against her shoulder, she felt Alistair jump when she reached for her mana and produced a flame in her right hand. Turning toward him, she grinned. "I wouldn't give this up for anything."

Across the firelight, he caught the grin as it faded into contented smile. "It suits you, truly."

Gwen kept the light fed and watched it flicker, casting a soft glow over his face. Their eyes met and she pinched her eyebrows together, trying hard not to think about the handsome man next to her, and how enticing he looked bathed in firelight. Swallowing the thought, she consumed the flame and the night fell back over them.

"Enough about me and my family, do... you want to talk about yours?"

Alistair snorted. "Not particularly."

She nudged him. "I'm trying to get to know you better. Family seems like a good place to start."

She waited, feeling his hesitation when his body stilled and his breath deepened. Offering him a reprieve, she continued in a hushed tone, "I know you've stopped the conversation before, and I've tried not to think of it, but I admit: I'm curious what you're hiding."

Alistair turned his head toward her voice, scowling at her. "I'm not _hiding_ anything; there's not... really much to tell."

"I'd still like to know."

"Fine." He hissed through his teeth. "Let's see: my parents are dead, and I had a half-brother once, who also died. I suppose I have one living _relative_ out in Thedas somewhere, but I doubt we'll ever meet. That's all, really. I don't talk about it because there's nothing to talk about, with them all being dead or out of reach."

"Forgive my brashness, but why did you live at Redcliffe Castle as a child if your parents were gone?"

Alistair rolled his eyes dramatically, though Gwen couldn't see. "Eamon Guerrin took me in, that's why."

She puzzled for a few moments, allowing the words to spill out casually. "I've wondered about the dream, over the last week… you asked if I minded that you're a bastard. It almost broke my heart to witness it, but something doesn't add up... why would Eamon have taken you in... unless... are you sure he isn't your father?"

" _You are relentless."_ He dropped his chin to his chest, then perked up, grinning into the night. "Wait. What am I getting out of this interrogation?"

"Ask me anything; I promise I'll answer truthfully." Gwen spoke with a daring voice.

Studying her dark shape, he leaned in and spoke lowly to her ear, "I'll hold you to it."

Turning her face toward the tickle at her ear, she felt his breath and caught a dark glint in his eye from the light in the courtyard. Whispering to him, she turned the conversation back to him. "You shouldn't feel ashamed of your past. It isn't fair to judge a child by something they have no control over." Laying her hand on his forearm, she squeezed and continued. "The only thing that matters to me is the man you are today."

Alistair sat back roughly against the prickly straw, realizing he wasn't going to walk away from her without some kind of explanation. "I know. And... it's a bit more complicated that I'm letting on, but none of it means anything to me anymore." He sighed aloud. "Why are you so interested, besides getting to know me?"

Gwen sat still next to him, puzzling again. "A man arrived at Skyhold tonight and given what was said in your... dream, I'm inclined to tell you about him."

He straightened his spine and asked with genuine curiosity. "Who is it?"

"Teagan Guerrin, the Arl of Redcliffe."

Alistair relaxed again, and the smile on his face could be heard in his response. "I'd like to see him and before you press me again: no, he is not my blood uncle."

She twitched her nose, while examining him for telltale signs of lying. "I guess believe you."

He elbowed her gently. "Good, then we can drop it."

Through a yawn, Gwen responded. "I'll arrange a meeting, if Leliana hasn't already done so. He's staying in the valley."

Slowly, he put forth a question, trying to sound nonchalant. "Would you... go with me?"

"Feeling nervous about seeing the Arl?" Gwen grinned. "Maybe _he's_ your father..."

Alistair ignored her jab, in favor of sincerity. "No, actually. I was going to ask if you'd like to go to the tavern afterwards."

Gwen jibed, nudging him and sending a bark of laughter into the night. "Like a date?"

But Alistair wasn't laughing. "Yes."

Her expression dropped for a moment before she sat up a bit straighter and a slow smile grew. "I would love to."

"Good." He smiled sweetly, before he stood and again held out his arm for her. "Now, let's head back to the hall. I wouldn't be a gentleman if I kept a lady out to the wee hours."

Gwen paused for a moment, unresponsive, and staring at his silhouette against the light from the courtyard. Something had definitely changed in him.

Distracted by the thought, she numbly reached for his arm and allowed herself to be paraded up the stairs.

The pair reached the main hall after a swift and silent course through the yard. Closing the double doors to the wind, they stood with their backs against the wood and Alistair looked down to his companion, noticing Gwen's pink cheeks from the whip of the wind.

"I think you have windburn."

"Delightful." Abashed, she touched her cool hands to her face and propelled herself from the door and down the hall.

Alistair followed suit, catching up with her as they neared the small throne that sat at the far end.

"I had some time to look at it while I waited for you and I have to say, you weren't kidding; it's kind of pathetic." He pointed and gave her a ridiculing look.

"Are you making fun of my throne?" Gwen scolded him.

"I would never." Chuckling he walked around it, scrutinizing it further. "But you don't even really sit above the rest of the hall."

"I hardly ever use it."

Alistair lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "What's it like?"

"Do you want to try it out?" Gwen asked with a sly smirk.

"No… of course not." He laughed nervously. "Why would I?"

Pointing to the chair, she walked to her door and stifled a yawn. "As Inquisitor, I give you permission to sit in my throne anytime you want, should you feel the desire."

Alistair's eyebrows rose again, this time with amusement. "Promise?"

Turning on her heel, she met his grin and her words tumbled out in disbelief. "Alistair… was that… some sort of... Did you just make a _naughty_ joke?"

"Maybe?" He pursed his lips as his gaze moved around to the walls and ceiling in an arch. "It depends on how well you received said naughty joke."

"Hmm, needs work. What was the throne innuendo for, exactly?" Smiling, Gwen tilted her head at him and strolled to her door, her hand resting on the handle. "Hawke was so sure he didn't corrupt your goodness."

Moving a few steps, he stood beside her and his tone lowered. "There was always a small part of me that reveled in a dirty joke, Gwen. Don't blame the poor man for that."

The woman chuckled and turned the handle, opening the door in a hurry. "Well, Goodni—"

"Wait." Reaching for her left hand, he gently held it in his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips slowly. Alistair's lips were soft and full and she was sent back to the kiss in the cave, however awkward it was. Her face flushed and he released her.

Speaking quietly, he peered into her sage-green eyes again. "Thank you for making time for me tonight."

With pursed lips, she turned back to face the door. "You're welcome."

"Goodnight, Gwen." With an agile pivot, he turned and walked swiftly to the door leading through the balcony and up to his room, sparing a single glance back to her before he opened the door and disappeared within.

The Inquisitor opened her door, retreated to the safety of her lower hallway, and paused to lean against the door as it closed. She was a bit bewildered.

"What the _hell_ did Leliana say to him?"


	18. Let the Chips Fall Where They May

xXXXx

Gwen woke up the next morning with bright eyes and a sunnier attitude than she'd had in days.

Her first thoughts in the morning were of one man, and so she dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs making her way to his room, hoping to rouse him for breakfast. She was about to knock on the door when Solas appeared beside her.

"Allow the man to rest undisturbed."

"Why? He's got to be starving."

"There are things we must speak of privately, and something I must… _ascertain_ of you. Would you accompany me on a short trip?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, she questioned him. "What sort of trip?"

"Somewhere a bit more interesting." Solas made a strange, sweeping gesture with his hand, which the Inquisitor followed hypnotically.

She then consented easily. "Oh. Sure."

.

Bright sun shone down upon them and though her breath came out in white whorls, and the ground was covered by a thin dusting of snow, Gwen was quite warm. Haven was unnaturally quiet except for a stir of wind rustling through the trees. Solas watched her intently as her eyes drifted around her former home.

The woman walked with a sadness in her step. "I miss this place."

"Yes, I know how much it meant to you." He paused to study her response.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"There's something else I want you to see."

Solas led her through the Chantry and down into the dank dungeon. Torches lit the descending stairwell which opened into a large central room surrounded by locked prison cells. A set of shackles lay in the middle of the floor.

"This is where we embarked on our journey together."

"I—I don't remember." Gwen lowered her eyes.

"For days, you lay unconscious as I kept my vigil. I studied the mark, ran tests, but as you refused to wake, I had resigned myself to leaving this place."

"Then, you woke up." He chuckled as he continued, "And the rest is history."

Smiling sweetly, she lifted her left hand to examine the green crevice. "Thank you, for watching over me, for teaching me how to use this."

"Don't thank me yet." Solas nodded, a frown forming.

The Inquisitor pinched her eyebrows together with concern and followed him as he ascended the stairs. A glimmer of confusion passed over her before she left the dungeon, and she turned back to the place where the shackles lay. In a blink, she saw the shadow of a figure kneeling next to another form lying on the ground.

Shaking the image from her head, she quickly took to the stairs and stepped up into the bright light again. The elf mage stood tall, looking out across the village, his back toward her. "Do you know where we are?"

Gwen looked around them, confused by his obvious question. "We're in Haven."

"Are you _sure_?" With a thin smile, he turned with chin in hand.

"Are you teasing me? This is Haven." She made the statement matter-of-factly.

Solas smirked. "Let me ask another question: is there anywhere else you'd rather be?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you could choose any moment in time or any place on this world to visit, where would that be?"

She thought for a long moment. "I—suppose I'd choose—"

"Don't tell me." He turned squarely to face her, touching her shoulders gently. "Think of it, in remarkable detail: sights, smells, how you felt when you were there, the landscape, _everything_."

Gwen cocked her head. "Is this another lesson in magic?"

With a rolling nod and simultaneous lift of his eyebrow, Solas gripped her a little harder. " _Yes."_

"Okay." Several quick nods later, Gwen had closed her eyes, an anxious smile on her face.

Around them the landscape began to change dramatically. Rain replaced gently falling snow and the sky turned overcast, but still bright as day. The musty smell of damp earth filled their nostrils and lush grass grew up from the dirt road beneath their feet. A pitter-patter of rain falling on tree leaves took over their aural senses.

Gwen's eyes popped wide and her mouth hung open, as she tore herself from the elf's grasp and made a quick survey of their new location. They were in Crestwood.

In a jubilant, cocksure voice she snapped back to Solas. " _I can teleport_."

Suppressing his involuntary laughter, the elf corrected her. "No, you can't."

Looking slightly crestfallen, she questioned him. "What do you call taking us from Haven to Crestwood in a matter of seconds?"

"I think you may be overlooking something." Solas pointed to a large tree with a boulder sitting underneath it several yards from them. Atop the boulder sat a man, happily tearing into a piece of jerky.

"Alistair?"

"Close. That is a _spirit_ taking the form of our comrade. It was drawn to your memory of him." He waited a moment for recognition to spring to her face.

Gwen's eyes jumped around. "The Fade."

"Yes."

"Why are you in my dream?"

"We're not in your dream, not since Skyhold." Sighing, he glared at the sky to stop the annoying drizzle that she had created. "We're in _my_ dream."

Puzzled, the Inquisitor listened intently for his explanation.

"I have made a discovery." He strolled around her, his posture rigid, his chin again held in his hand. "Days ago, Alistair retold his experiences regarding your shared dream, and a suspicion arose. I had to test it in a safe setting."

Unable to meet her eyes, he continued in a strained voice. "That night at Caer Bronach when you came to me, you were right to question the mark's capabilities. I should have anticipated this outcome, but I was distracted."

"Solas, you're starting to scare me; what's going on?"

"Believe me, I had no idea that this was even possible, or I would have warned you. I won't fail you again, I promise."

"Out with it!" She stomped, and a roll of thunder sounded above them.

"Relax, Inquisitor: this will not be easy to hear." Solas took a deep, shaky breath and continued.

"You have become a somniari, a dreamer, a shaper of the Fade." He paused to allow the idea to sink into her mind.

Immediately she broke into a frenzied voice. "How is this possible?"

"The ancient magic that saturates your mark was never meant to be embodied by a mortal and there are… unforeseen side effects."

Gwen nodded quickly, solemnly. "Can I control it?"

"With my help, yes. I too am a dreamer, though your abilities differ from my own. Where I can find ancient memories stirring in the places I sleep, I cannot easily pass through the invisible walls into other's dreams as you have done. I can teach you to detect spirits and demons, and protect yourself from possession."

"Possession? But, I passed my Harrowing years ago."

"Demons can be drawn to us, more so than other mages. We'll need to bolster your will."

" _Maker_." Gwen rubbed her face, the shock settling in.

"I am so sorry." Solas reached for her hand and she squeezed back. His steely gaze honed in on her, drawing her eyes to his like a magnet. "Remember, it was you who solely survived the explosion at the Conclave, you who saved Redcliffe and Haven, and you who are destined for much more. You bear the mark and are the key to our salvation."

Gwen exhaled deeply, her eyes locked on his as he continued.

"In that single gesture, when you closed the first rift, I _felt_ the entire world change." He released her hand, recognizing and fearing his own intensity. "You need not be afraid."

The weight of the knowledge hit her and busied her stomach with a twinge of fear. From the boulder, her eyes contacted the spirit sitting there. He was watching her curiously, a peaceful smile on his face. Gwen closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, catching a sort of 'scent' on the air: clean and crisp, like laundry, fresh from the drying line. Tilting her head to the spirit, it nodded an affirmation to her and dissolved into the ether in a whirl of white, wispy smoke.

Solas' voice drew her back to him. "We should speak again in the morning."

"You mean—"

"Yes. It's time to wake up."

.

Jolting from her bed, Gwen's heart pounded in her chest. She wasted no time pulling on her robe and scampered down her stairs to greet the dark and quiet main hall.

No clear thoughts came to her, just a pained urgency to speak to Solas in the real world, to make sure that she was so longer dreaming. Standing in front of the door to the rotunda, she paused briefly and took a deep breath, then proceeded to enter the dark room.

Scanning the dim light, she saw him, standing against the doorway to the gardens. The faded light of dawn obscured everything, save his lithe silhouette. She tiptoed over to him and he turned to greet her, a look of sorrow etched onto his dark features.

For the first time since waking, she felt her own face, and it mirrored his emotion. Surprising her, he put his arm over her shoulders and ushered her toward the fragrant garden. He kept his arm protectively around her until they reached a bench under the colonnade and sat.

Gwen took several deep breaths before she spoke. "When we were returning to Skyhold… Alistair and Surana… I caused the dream sharing?"

"I believe so."

"But, how?"

"You must have trespassed into his dream, then found Surana, taking him along with you into her dream."

"Were they in any danger?"

"No more than in their usual dreams. The Fade is a relatively safe place, unless you encounter demons."

"Good." Gwen perched on the edge of the bench, looking hopeful as she asked another question.

"Could tonight have been a... temporary thing? And could the night on the road have just been coincidence? Alistair has definitely been on my mind of late… and I wasn't able to change the Fade before, not like I just did with you."

Intrigued, Solas responded. "Did you try?"

The Inquisitor's shoulders drooped. "No."

"I felt a subtle change in you when we met in the Fade tonight, that only happens when you meet another dreamer. You should exercise this new power when you dream to test the limits of your new abilities."

The woman straightened her spine and looked up to him in suspicion. "I'm not sure if I'm _okay_ with that."

"We can work slowly, of course."

Burying her face in her hands, she groaned softly. "This changes everything, doesn't it?"

"I cannot say."

Gwen shook her head at his non-committal attitude. "Am I in danger of accidentally ripping open a rift to the Fade at any moment?" She looked down at her hand: the mark was tame for once and she gazed at the dim green crevice.

"Given how much energy you muster when closing rifts, I believe you would know if you were opening one, even involuntarily."

"Why is this happening? As if having the mark isn't enough by itself…"

"I don't wish to frighten you, falon, but your hold on the mark may be degrading."

"Will I be rid of it then?"

In a weary voice, he responded. "It is doubtful."

"Right now, I can only surmise that your mark destabilizes over time, sending you into the Fade at those pinnacle moments, with perfect alertness. I do not yet know the method by which you transcend the spaces."

"How did you even find me?"

"I waited for you in a communal place in the Fade for a night before you moved beyond the confines of your own dreams. When you crossed your threshold, that slight reverberation became a beacon in the mist for me to follow. Still, it took some time to find you."

"Go back a moment: what do you mean it 'destabilizes'?"

"Look at your hand: you wouldn't even know the mark was there right now. I wonder, what was it like yesterday?"

"It was sparking." Gwen hung her head, shaking it in shame. "I didn't give it more thought than putting a glove over it. How stupid of me."

Solas' hand brushed over her left palm, where he gently squeezed. "How could you have known? This is new, even to me, and I can only make assumptions. My guess is that the mark charges with Fade magic and if you don't expel it, it is expelled for you, creating an invisible doorway of a sort."

"Is this what it's like for you? Opening a door?"

The elf chuckled softly. "I simply wake in the Fade, as if I'm waking in the real world."

"Then, there's a chance that when the mark is gone, I won't be a dreamer anymore?"

Solas blinked in rapid thought. "Yes."

A thin sigh of relief and strength passed over Gwen and she sat still for a long moment. The eastern sky brightened, chasing away the residual night with each moment.

The Inquisitor turned her head to see her friend still staring at her, waiting patiently.

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. "This world yet has secrets. I suppose I should stop being surprised that these sorts of things are even possible."

"Well said, falon."

Gwen swallowed, gathering courage from Maker knows where. "I believe I can deal with this new development, so long as it's temporary."

He nodded to her, smiling proudly. "We will continue to monitor your new ability."

"Of course, use the Inquisition's resources if need be."

"Well," he met her eyes across the faint light, "for the time being, this should be kept private."

"Why?"

"We don't know the extent of the instability; you need to keep closing rifts, keep pursuing Corypheus." Veiling his frustration, he stood and took a step away, only turning back after a moment of quiet concentration. "We cannot risk them taking you from your mission."

Alarm spread across Gwen's features. "I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose you're right."

"Together we can study this as we travel. You're my pupil in the healing arts; I can teach you this as well."

"Very well."

Solas tilted his head to the sky. "You had better return to your quarters before the sun is fully risen."

"Thank you—for being here with me, and for guiding me."

He nodded curtly, with a concerned expression. "Remember to keep this secret."

.

Back in her room, Gwen had just laid her head down as the sun rose outside. Tired, she closed her eyes, hoping to the Maker that she'd be able to sleep another hour or so and have no dreams, but sleep would not come.

Rising drearily, she shuffled to her desk and took a seat, lighting an oil lamp on the corner of her desk with the flick of her fingers. She sought the leather-bound journal and pulled in in front of her, automatically readying her quill and ink as a slow yawn overtook her.

Gwen opened her journal to a new page and the quill danced across the page as neat script followed it.

…

_Cloudsreach 9:42 Dragon_

_The morning after_

_…_

Blinking furiously, she tapped the quill and the ink blotted on the page where she trailed off, but she couldn't write a single word more.

What she wanted was to divulge her innermost thoughts to the paper and her feelings on her newfound ability, but she feared putting anything down where someone might find them, read them, and possibly take her from her duty out of a fear for her power.

"The Inquisition is all I have right now." Determined, she shut the journal with a crisp snap. "And I can't risk it."

A heavy, rolling knock sounded on the door at the bottom of her stone steps and she pulled on her robe and rushed to answer it.

She reached the bottom and called, without ceremony. "Who is it?"

Leliana's bubbly voice came from the other side of the door. "It's me, silly."

Opening the door, Gwen slumped against the heavy wood. "You couldn't have waited until I came down to breakfast?"

"Sorry, no." Grinning wildly, she slipped past the Inquisitor and pulled the door shut behind her. "So, how was your night?"

With a fresh, almost giddy smile, she softened. "It was … nice. What did you say to him at tea?"

"Only the truth." Leliana dropped her smile and lifted a notebook. "As much as I would love to hear more about your night, it'll have to wait until after the morning briefing."

"I couldn't have had _one_ morning to sleep late in my comfortable bed before traveling?"

"Apparently not. Iron Bull has returned from Crestwood, and his team are all waiting in the War Room for their leader."

Gwen groaned, turning back to the stairs. "I'll be down as soon as I can."

The rogue winked, calling behind her. "And do brush out your hair, dear."

* * *

xXXXx

The morning meeting wrapped up quickly and cleanly, as per Iron Bull's usual succinct business dealings. They'd escorted a prisoner from Crestwood and due to her departure the next day, his trial was going to be held that very afternoon.

Throughout the briefing, Gwen held herself with composure, though inside, she felt immensely burdened. A bit of apprehension filled her, and she was reminded of her break-down in Crestwood, only a week prior. She needed her friends and allies. She needed someone to talk to, who she felt comfortable with. One man came to mind, and after their dismissal from the meeting, she intended to find him, if only to be in his presence

With thoughts abuzz, Gwen moved through the Ambassador's office until her eyes met Blackwall, as he stood next to Josephine's desk in the midst of a quiet conversation with her. The Inquisitor bowed her head to the pair in respect and then stopped suddenly when a curious thought flew through her mind.

"Blackwall…" she tilted her head at him and he straightened, turning toward her.

"Inquisitor?"

"Would you accompany me to meet with the Grey Warden Alistair? I think I've just had an idea."

He consented, but his expression was mismatched his body language. "Of course."

Gwen beckoned him to follow her through the doors to the main hall.

.

With the senior Warden a few paces behind, Gwen found Alistair in the garden.

She smiled at him sweetly. "Hi."

"I missed you at breakfast." He managed to say it before the grizzly Grey Warden came into view. "Oh. Hello again, Warden."

Blackwall bowed casually to him.

"Iron Bull is back from Crestwood, and he called a morning meeting to discuss their trip, which is why I'm here actually."

Alistair glanced back to the other Grey Warden. "Is something wrong?"

"There's a trial this afternoon and since you were in Crestwood with me, and you both have knowledge about the Blight, I'd like to talk to you and Blackwall beforehand."

"When?"

"Now, if you don't mind."

He nodded, and she stepped around him on her way to the Rotunda.

Solas was back, painting again. He smiled at Gwen and came down from the ladder.

Gwen looked at the men trailing her. "Alistair, do you mind if we use your room to speak privately?"

"Fine by me."

"Go ahead and take Blackwall; I'll be there in a moment." She gestured to Solas and the men left through the exit toward the main hall.

When the door closed behind them, Solas looked her over. "Did you have a chance to rest again after this morning?"

"Not really. I plan on getting a cup of coffee on my way through the hall."

"This will get easier, falon." Softly, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

Alistair came into the room and halted suddenly at their interaction. He tilted his head, and cleared his throat. Gwen turned to greet him, walking out of the elf's grasp. "I'm coming."

His narrowed eyes stretched back and forth between Solas and Gwen. "I... was just going to ask if you wanted snacks."

The woman grinned, coming to his side and taking him by the arm. "Coffee and some of those little honey cakes with walnuts would be lovely; I'll help you carry the tray."

.

As soon as they were all in his room, Gwen began going over the facts of the trial. Placing the tray down upon his bedside table, she poured herself a cup of hot black coffee.

"The crime in question happened ten years ago, during the Blight. I began to suspect foul play when the dam controls were intact; Dedrick said they'd been destroyed by darkspawn."

Both men nodded in understanding.

"You found this in the man's home, correct?" She dug into her pack and handed a folded letter to Blackwall, who stood rigid by the door.

He glanced at the letter, then handed it to Alistair to read. "Yes, ma'am."

Alistair took a cake, stuffed it into his mouth, and passed the little plate to his fellow as he read the letter.

"I'm not hungry." The bearded man remarked, placing the plate back on the tray.

The cake hung awkwardly out of the younger Warden's mouth as his eyes jolted up from the letter and followed the plate all the way to its resting place. Alistair's brow furrowed and his eyes returned to the folded paper in his hand.

…

_Inquisitor,_

_It was not_ _darkspawn that opened the dam and flooded Old Crestwood ten years ago. I did, in secret, the night they attacked. The undead you have been fighting are people I killed with my own hands._

_We'd taken in refugees from the_ _Blight. Many were ill. We moved the sick to the lower part of Crestwood, and the refugees into the caves, to stop the disease from spreading. It didn't work. One confessed he'd seen_ _blight sickness before. It was always fatal. When the darkspawn attacked, I knew the only way the village would survive is if the blight-sick drowned with the monsters. I cannot bear the sight of Old Crestwood now that the water is gone. I cannot stay._

_I'm sorry._

_Mayor_ _Gregory Dedrick_

_…_

Alistair grimaced, placing the paper back in Gwen's hand after a few moments of introspection. "You have his confession, then why the trial?"

"For judgement." Gwen met his eyes, finding comfort in them, given the gravity of determining a man's future. "I have to decide what becomes of him."

"I see now why you're having difficulty with it."

"My real problem is, I can't say that in the same situation I'd have done any different." Gwen watched the discomfort in Alistair's posture. "You don't agree?"

He glanced at their silent companion, meeting his eye. "It's not that. I've had to make decisions like this in the past. Sometimes there's no good recourse."

Gwen popped open her knapsack and prepared her ink and quill. "Can either of you tell me, what is the blight sickness?"

Blackwall re-positioned himself uncomfortably. "We shouldn't be talking about it."

Gwen shook her head in clear distaste of his answer. "Given the nature of the man's crimes, I feel I need to know."

They both looked at Alistair, waiting for his response.

Pacing, he held his chin and turned toward the other Warden. "You don't think we should tell her, considering…"

"Go ahead if you want to, but I'm still on good terms with the Grey Wardens. No need to risk my reputation."

" _Right."_ Alistair squinted at him, then turned his attention to Gwen, pursing his lips in preparation. "It's a wasting disease, spread by those with the taint, like darkspawn. Humans infected with it become shells of themselves."

His eye found Blackwall. "We call them ghouls and we're… merciful… when we encounter them."

She looked up from her codex. "So, there's no treatment."

Alistair chuckled darkly. "It _can_ be treated."

"The sick refugees could have been healed? Can you explain, please?" Gwen turned to him with her notebook in hand, drawing closer with a smile. "You don't get to be vague, _Warden_. A man's life is at stake."

Alistair caught Blackwall's noncommittal shrug in his peripheral vision.

Quietly, he explained, dropping his smile as the words came out. "The only option if you're tainted, is to become a Grey Warden."

Uneasiness amassing in her eyes, she centered on him and dropped her journal clumsily. "Is that what happened to you?"

"No, I was perfectly healthy when I joined them."

"And you?" She looked to the bearded man with a shred of pity.

"I chose the path too."

She narrowed her eyes in thought. "How does it work?"

The younger Warden again looked to his superior, who shook his head with scorn. "Clearly, you don't agree with me telling her."

"I don't disagree, I'm just not going to reveal anything myself. As a Warden-Constable, I actually have something to lose if I tell the truth."

Alistair extended his hand toward Gwen. "She can be trusted."

"Of that I have little doubt." He stood taller and moved to the door, chuckling. "But it's clear that you don't need me here, son."

With pleading in her voice, she called out. "Wait, Blackwall…"

"Forgive me, milady, but I should like to rest before the trial begins. We traveled through the night to get here by dawn."

Gwen could do nothing but release him from his duty, but her eyes expressed her disapproval. "I'll come find you if you're needed."

"I think you have everything you need right there." He smirked and tipped his head to Alistair. "Good day to you both."

The man left the room briskly, and the remaining couple looked at one another curiously.

Gwen smoothed out her journal page. "He's not usually like that."

"Where did you say you found him?"

"He was recruiting, just south of Redcliffe in the Hinterlands. Why?"

"Something feels _off_ with him."

Slightly offended by his inference, she turned the conversation back to the Blight sickness. "We have other things to discuss, besides Blackwall."

"Right. Where were we?"

Gwen checked back through her notes. "You were about to tell me how one becomes a Grey Warden?"

"Well… There's a ritual," Alistair rolled his shoulders and paced about the room again. There was no easy way to say the next bit. "And we take the taint into our bodies."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "But, you just said—"

"I know." Alistair thinned his lips and held up his hands defensively. "The way we do it is safe—mostly. There are recruits that don't make it, but that's the price for keeping the world safe from darkspawn and Blights."

Gwen nodded, understanding the secrecy and the price. "So, joining the Grey Wardens can be deadly; I see why the secret is kept. Does the ritual then expel the taint?"

"No."

A glimmer of concern passed over her face, and she tried to harden herself. "How can you live with it inside you? You just said that humans who have blight sickness become ghouls."

The man swallowed a lump forming in his throat. This was it: the truth, and his fear. Alistair took a confidant step toward her, plucked the journal from her grip and placed it on the side table. Then he picked up her hands, cradling them in his.

"When you came to me two days ago, asking me why I didn't want to start anything romantic, I didn't want to tell you the truth. It's made its way to the surface now, so I might as well share this with you."

She implored him with a sullen look.

He closed his eyes for a moment in consideration of his words. "The Joining is _special_ , different that just contracting blight sickness, but that isn't important."

"The important part is that…the darkspawn taint is inside me, it's how I can sense them, it's why the false Calling affects me, and eventually, it'll overtake my humanity."

Gwen allowed one word to escape her lips. " _No."_

He nodded glumly. "That's what the real Calling is. When the taint overwhelms our bodies and minds, we go to the Deep Roads to fight until we die."

She couldn't look into his amber eyes. "How long?"

"For the true Calling?"

She nodded, her fingers worrying circles over his.

"Twenty years, at best."

Brows still pinched, she ventured to look up at him. "And at worst?"

Alistair tried to smile, if only to soften the gravity of his words. "If Corypheus' Calling doesn't take me, then I can't say for certain. Ten years? Duncan had been a Grey Warden for around twenty years and before he died, he confided in me that he began to hear… the whispers."

"That's what you're hearing now? Whispers?"

" _Yes._ I don't know how it's being done, but I hear it, _incessantly_. When it truly comes, the taint will call to me, just like this, until the pull is so strong, there's nothing left to do, but travel the Long Walk."

Alistair gazed at her with remorse, for burdening her with the truth. Her face was downcast and her hands were still enclosed in his, but still.

The few moments of silent thought were ended when she looked up at him with adoring eyes. "I think I understand now."

"You… do?" He cocked his head.

"The way you acted two days ago, you were concealing the truth for me, to spare me. You're going to die, and you're worried about hurting me, if we should… grow closer."

"Well, yes."

Gwen lifted her hand to touch his cheek, roughened by a day's worth of stubble. "The life we lead puts us in constant danger. When do any of us know when we're going to die?"

Alistair lifted his hand and closed his hand around hers, bringing it down between them again. "There's a good chance you _will_ survive this."

Gwen stared down at her hand cradled in his and turned it over. Revealing the mark on her hand, she remembered her dream and a deep dread hit her stomach.

"I'll hope for that, but the future is so fluid. Anything can come along and upset the balance of our lives."

"That's… not what I expected you'd say."

She stared at him and stepped away, with a skip. "Good."

Renewed, she went to the armor dummy in the corner. "Now, I've got a man to judge, and I think I know the proper course of action."

Cautious, he lifted his brow at her, a little wary of her attitude. "What do you intend?"

She whipped the sheet off dramatically and it floated to the ground. "Ever heard the saying, 'let the punishment fit the crime'?"

The man lifted a curious eyebrow and gripped his chin.

Gwen ran her hands over the shining breastplate. The cool metal reflected a contorted image of herself. "Is this your full set?"

"Mostly."

Grinning wide, she beckoned him over. "Well, then, let's get you into it."

.

Clearing her throat politely before she spoke, Josephine called out in a loud, clear voice.

"Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood is present for betraying his constituents. He confesses, in a letter found by the Inquisition, that ten years ago, he flooded Old Crestwood to kill refugees and villagers touched by the Blight. He claims that is was to spare the rest of Crestwood, but we only have his word."

Soldiers brought forth the man and placed him before her, on his knees. His skin was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes, but the figure of a well-built man showed beneath his ragged clothes. His grey hair was limp and oily, and when his eyes turned up to her, resolve was the only thing she saw.

Gwen sat still upon the Inquisition throne, wearing a simple, yet handsome, crimson robe, trimmed with gold. When she finished sizing up the man, she leaned forward to speak. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

His voice was low and calm. "I was told there was no cure for the Blight, but when I tried to convince the townsfolk, no one wanted to leave behind their sick loved ones."

The Inquisitor kept her features stoic. "Were there innocents caught in the flood?"

"Nearly everyone in the village had the Blight, I swear it." The man raised his voice and echoed on the walls. "I know I lied about the flood, and I know I'm at your mercy, but I couldn't tell the villagers I'd drowned their families to save them—I couldn't."

Gwen nodded, and the soldiers brought him to his feet. The Inquisitor then rose, meeting the man eye-to eye. "The Blight was your undoing. Let it also be your means of redemption."

She then stepped aside and sent a quick nod to a man in the crowd.

Honey-brown eyes met hers as Alistair cut through the people to stand at her side, in his full Grey Warden regalia, Blackwall followed, in similar fashion. "For your crimes, Gregory Dedrick, I give you to our Grey Warden allies, to fight darkspawn until the Calling takes you."

Alistair regarded the man. "Given the current status of the Grey Wardens, we must ensure you don't find yourself wishing to flee when you travel to their nearest stronghold. You'll be bound by conscription, until the Joining."

Dedrick nodded.

Josephine readied her quill.

Warden Blackwall nodded in return, speaking in a strong voice. "I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription on this man, Gregory Dedrick."

The younger Warden pursed his lips and quietly regarded him. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens, recruit."

Momentarily speechless, the guilty man knelt. "I—I don't deserve the honor, but I'll do my best."

He only looked up when the soldiers pulled at him, directing him to the doors of the dungeon.

Alistair and Blackwall followed slowly behind.

* * *

oOOOo

The dungeon was dark, save the thin torchlight from along the walls. Gregory Dedrick sat on the bench in his cell, his hands still bound, but the door hung open, awaiting the Grey Wardens.

Alistair kept silent all the way down, wondering about the man in front of him. From their very first encounter in Crestwood, he felt an empty sensation within the man.

Usually when he was with his kinsmen, he felt a touch of the taint inside them, and the prolonged exposure to the feeling comforted him more than he realized. Without them close by, the emptiness was strange and isolating. So, when he'd first heard there was another Grey Warden in the Inquisition's ranks, a wash of relief fell over him: to be around one of his fellows again pleased him greatly.

Oddly, there was nothing of the sort with Warden Blackwall. No relief, no sense of the taint, and Alistair didn't know what to make of it.

_It's probably this damned Calling._ He gave the man the benefit of his doubt.

As they drew near, Blackwall stood beside his cohort, pulling him to a stop. "We should figure this out before we're in earshot."

Alistair looked down to where his hand caught his arm and scowled slightly. "I don't think there's much to figure; _you'll_ need to escort him to one of the Grey Warden bases so they can perform the Joining. I'd suggest Vigil's Keep, since it's the closest."

"Why me? The Inquisition needs me."

"And if I go to them, they'll likely imprison me, thus ending my investigation in the Western Approach. Aren't you the least bit curious what they're up to?"

" _Fine_." Blackwall breathed out through his nose, clearly irritated, but keeping his cool. "So much for a few days off."

Alistair tilted his head and left without another word.

.

With a quick trip back to his room to change out of his armor, he returned to the main hall, bustling through on his way to the Undercroft. Rummaging through his thoughts, he gave no attention to the folk around him, nor their stares and whispers.

His mind was focusing on one thing: his partially-finished project in the Undercroft. Alistair needed to convince Dagna to continue the work in his stead. So far, he'd cut the pieces, well enough for Lem's standards, and they needed to be pieced together, then the finishing touches would be added.

_All I need her to do is work on cutting the holes for sewing and order the next set of supplies—_

Behind him, he heard a man call out in an articulate, yet warmly melodic voice. "Warden, might I have a word?"

There was something familiar about it, and he turned to see a man, squinting his blue eyes in curiosity, wrinkles forming at the outer edges of his eyes. His neatly combed, auburn hair touched his shoulders and an neat shadow of red stubble grew across his jaw. Dressed in fur-lined leather, he bowed reverently.

"Teagan." Alistair swallowed a lump forming in his throat. He hadn't seen his old friend since the celebration of the Blight's end, ten years ago, and he and his brother, Eamon, weren't happy that he'd refused what they thought was his birthright.

"Forgive me for startling you." A strange, sad expression crossed his features. "I saw you from the crowd at the trial, and admit I have been waiting for our paths to cross since."

"Gw—the _Inquisitor_ mentioned you were here. I intended to go into the valley this afternoon to seek you out." He smiled, lopsided, returning in a moment to the bright young boy who wanted more than anything to be loved and respected by the Guerrin's. "Looks like you beat me to the chase."

Teagan's blue eyes brightened as he took a step forward, looking Alistair over carefully before extended his arms. "Maker, it's been a long time—you've grown up."

The two embraced in a warm hug and the younger man beamed. "It's been too long, if you ask me."

Releasing one another, they stood for a silent moment, sizing one another up. Teagan broke in, chuckling at himself. "Quite right. I have so many questions floating about in my head, I don't know where to start, or even if I should at this moment given our time constraints. Would you care to have dinner with me, tonight?"

_Yes!_ Alistair nodded, emphatically.

_Wait, no: dinner with Gwen. Damn it. Now of all times, I'm busy._

"I could spare some time now, if you have it."

Teagan's smile fell. "I'm to meet with Leliana; we're long due for a truly professional discussion. I'm sorry."

Alistair nodded, making his decision. "I have a… _meeting_ with the Inquisitor tonight, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you joined us."

_She'll understand, at least I hope._ Alistair felt a flinch of guilt in his gut.

"Yes, the Lady Trevelyan is quite accommodating, and a delight in which to share company, I daresay. I'd enjoy seeing her again before I leave this place." Teagan clapped Alistair on his back before turning to go. "I'll see you both at the tavern, just before sundown."

* * *

xXXXx

Gwen sat slumped in the easy chair in the Ambassador's office, listening to Josephine's farewell pleasantries, followed by the outer door being shut and locked. Silently the Antivan woman walked back to her desk and sat herself down, releasing a breathy sigh.

Grumbling almost inaudibly, Josie glanced to her companion. "Uhg, I thought he would _never_ leave. He certainly likes to hear himself talk."

Sipping her tea, the Inquisitor listened, nodding with a forced sympathetic expression. "You should have stopped making eye contact an hour ago, like I did."

Josephine scowled and opened her agenda, readying her quill as she spoke. "The Comte will expect to see us at dinner."

With eyes glazed over and deep in thought, she'd realized her Ambassador had her booked for the evening. Professionally, she wanted a reprieve. Well, in all honesty, she desperately needed one. But personally, she wanted to spend that reprieve with Alistair.

Shaking herself free from staring, she rose from the chair. Gwen walked to the Ambassador's desk and planted her hands on the edge. "I need a break, Josephine."

"I understand." She hummed in disapproval. "The docket is sparse for the rest of the day."

"No, _no._ You don't understand." She gripped the desk harder and stated firmly. "I need a break, for the _rest of the da_ _y_."

Josephine pushed her chair back and looked up with incredulity, throwing her hands up in the air. "But, what of the Comte Renald De Mourier! You will be back on the road tomorrow morning, what am I to tell him?"

Gwen ran a hand through her wild mane of hair. "I beg you, put him off. I don't want to _displease_ the man by my current… state. He probably already dislikes me for avoiding eye contact during our introduction."

With a lengthy sigh, she sat back in the chair. "I wasn't going to mention it, but you do look a bit harried, dear. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course." Gwen answered quickly. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

Josephine continued, while the scratching of her pen crossed the paper quickly. "Should I have Adan make you a sleep tea?"

"That might help."

"Given your fatigue, I think I can persuade the Comte to have dinner alone with me this evening. But you owe me one. A big one." She looked up from her desk while folding the parchment, then placed it into an envelope and sealed it with red wax. "I'll leave a pouch in your room and have the maid leave the teapot by the fire."

"Thank you." Gwen rose quickly, bolting to the door once her freedom was sealed.

Josephine called out after her, and smirked. " _Do_ try to get some rest."

.

Gwen let a joyful feeling spread across her body for the first time that day, as she strolled out into the main hall and towards the Undercroft. A weightless feeling took over her again when she thought of Alistair's request the night before and new burden of being a dreamer lifted momentarily.

Once through the heavy door, she scanned the room, finding the Grey Warden sitting at a table, his cheek was smeared with dark leather oil and was actively wiping his greasy hands on a rag. His surprised eyes rose from his work and in an instant, he tore around the table to stand before her.

Along with a bewildered stare, he wore a sleeveless tunic, which showed off his toned arms, and a dark apron, tied tight around his midsection. Gwen widened her eyes in close observation: the disheveled, working man persona was definitely adding to his sex appeal.

"Good afternoon." The woman crooned and revealed a wide smile.

"Same to you. What are you doing here?" He furrowed his brow at her.

"I have good news."

His ears perked up. "That so?"

"I have nothing more to do today, if you want to go to the valley early." Her last words were whispered as her eyes darted around the room.

"Yes! Yes, of course." Alistair was excited, and his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Good. I'll give you some time to clean up." She chuckled and mimicked wiping her cheek as Alistair brought his hand up to his own cheek.

"I suppose I should at least wash my face."

Laughing, she pointed behind her. "Meet me at the stable in an hour?"

"See you then."

* * *

xoXOxo

Alistair had just finished helping the stable boy put the tack on the horses, when he turned to see Gwen coming toward him, her face radiant in the afternoon sun. She too had freshened up since he saw her. Her hair was tamed it into a handsome tail that lay over one of her shoulders. She wore simple burgundy dyed leather leggings, brown knee high riding boots, and her grey cloak, secured across her shoulders, obscuring the rest of her attire. A leather pack slung across her shoulder, and the gentleman reached for it when she grew closer.

"I can put that in the saddlebag for you."

She beamed at him. "Thank you."

Securing the bag, he pivoted back to her, extending his hand to her. "And I can help you onto the horse."

Taking his offering, she felt a gentle squeeze and met his honey-brown eyes. "You're too kind."

"I may have ulterior motives."

She stepped up onto a small stool, and then lodged her foot into the stirrup and slung her leg over the horse in a few unsteady moves. Alistair closed in, hoping to keep her from falling off. Once she was settled, she released his hand and responded, "So, what motives might you have?"

He half-cringed, mounting his horse. "Well, I _may_ have told Teagan that he could join us… for dinner. He had plans this afternoon and we're leaving tomorrow morning, so... I need to win back your favor."

Gwen smiled, concealing a twinge of disappointment. "It's fine."

"No, it isn't, but I didn't see any alternative."

"I promise, I'm not upset." Averting her eyes, she sought her gloves, tucked into her belt, but before she could put them on, she heard Alistair clear his throat, attempting to get her attention again.

"Just in case you are…" He'd led his horse next to her and held out a pair of crimson leather gloves, shiny and heavy with scent of leather oil. "Here."

Gwen took them from him, turning them over in her hands and slipping one of them onto her hand; they were a perfect fit, up to the elbow. Once the first glove was in place, it hummed against her skin and she shot her eyes up to Alistair. "Oh my goodness! They're enchanted."

The man laughed aloud, appreciating her exuberance at the simple thing. "With fire."

She looked at him sideways, with speculation. "Did you make these?"

"No, Dagna is the mastermind there. I gave them a good buffing though, so there's that. I was supposed to have them ready for your journey, but I got them done early."

"Thank you." Gwen was humbled as she sat flexing her hands in the new gloves, rethinking her disappointment. The charmer had succeeded in starting to win her back, if her favor was ever truly lost in the first place.

Placing his own gloves on his hands, he reached for the reins and beckoned her with the shrug of his shoulder. "Come on."

Amiably they trotted through the market and the eyes of every person they passed followed the pair curiously. If the couple had cared to notice, they would have heard soft whispers from the folk, but neither one of them fretted as they left the worries of Skyhold behind and ventured through the front gates.

.

"Do you like working in the Undercroft?"

Keeping his eyes on the road, he smirked. "Oddly, I do. Creating something gives me an incredible feeling. It's like an adventure."

"You're joking."

"Not one bit." He laughed joyfully, lifting his burgundy linen shirt to show her and in the process, gave her a fabulous view of his well-formed abdominal muscles. "See? I finished this belt this morning. Made it from some thick scrap. I even... engraved it a little."

Gwen looked, but didn't notice the belt. She flushed, smiling with delight. "But… an adventure?"

"Oh, _yes._ I stabbed myself with a needle twice yesterday and cut myself with a skinning knife the day before." He waved his gloved hand at her and winked. "I'll show you my battle wounds later."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." Beside her, she heard him chuckle with a deep and giddy reverberation. It was the best sound she'd heard in three full days, maybe more.

Alistair turned to her with a goofy smile. "I'm just as surprised as you are."

"Will you be sad to leave it behind when we go?"

Again, he laughed. "Despite my newfound hobby, I'm eager to be on the road again."

"I'm in agreement."

"Won't you miss home?"

"Yes, but..." She averted her eyes to the road ahead.

"But what?"

"Having _you_ here has been distracting. I find it hard to separate my two mindsets. I'm amazed that you can do it, with the Calling, and still be fully functional." Cheeks flushed, she dared to look at him, and he grinned.

Still smiling, he responded by tapping his temple. "I've been practicing a lot longer than you."

Silenced by the subject of their conversation, Gwen began to look around at her surroundings for the first time. Guided by lampposts along the way, the road turned around a bend and the landscape changed as they set their eyes on the valley below. A walled enclosure around the village made it look small, nestled among the tall trees. The sun was setting over the mountains and the waters of the two conjoining rivers sparkled vividly as they flowed together as one. The river snaked its way toward the village in the Valley and then beyond.

Finished gazing at the horizon, Alistair peered over to Gwen, watching her face light up at the scene before them. The woman was beautiful in her innocence and, as usual, Leliana was a genius for mentioning the trip.

"This view is fantastic."

Honoring her excitement, he asked, "Do you want to stop for a moment?" Alistair pulled his horse to a halt, expecting her to do the same.

Gwen attempted to pull the horse to a stop, but she failed and let out a grunt of frustration when it bucked lightly.

He dismounted ahead of her and came to her side, grabbing the reins and guiding the horses to a nearby tree along the path. After they were tied to a low hanging branch, he moved to her side to do the gentlemanly thing and help her dismount.

Alistair stood there beside her horse, patting its neck gently. Then, he looked up to her with smiling eyes and an outstretched hand.

"Couldn't we just stay on the horses?" Gwen looked down to the ground, sighing. "I always use a stepping stool."

Teasing away her apprehension, he tapped her knee closest to him. "Just swing your other leg over, keeping this one in the stirrup, then drop that leg to the ground slowly."

Glaring with a doubtful eye, she exhaled loudly.

Noticing her uneasiness, he assured her, "I'm here to catch you, should you fall."

And of course, she did just that.

Gwen lost her balance and leaned too far on her foot, caught in the foothold. Verbalizing her dismay in a few short squeals, she felt him behind her, holding her waist as she was coming down and falling back against him. Her foot hit the ground roughly, rolling her ankle, but not to the point of pain. The only thing compromised was her steadiness.

"Easy." Alistair mumbled, his voice husky and achingly close to her ear. He stumbled back against her weight and slid his arm fully around her midsection to steady them both.

Gwen turned her head as they stood for a minute, unmoving. A thin scent of soap and leather came to her senses and she half released her weight against him, feeling his warm body behind her. For the briefest of moments, she wished he could stay flush against him, maybe for the entire rest of the day. He felt good, stable, and strong.

However, a few breaths later, she felt and heard him laughing, and turned her head back to the horse, realizing that her foot was still caught in the stirrup. The poor beast was beginning to pull away and worry itself with light huffs at her.

"Well, that was fun." He tilted his head, admonishing her clumsiness, but still holding onto her tightly. "You fall with such grace."

Recoiling from his grasp, she remarked with disgruntled tone, "Be kind. This is all new to me. There were no horses in the Circle, Alistair."

Once she felt steady on her foot, his warmth left her. "Hold onto my shoulder while I release your foot." After turning her ankle gently, her foot fell free.

"You really are collecting up the points, aren't you?"

"As many as I need to make tonight better for you."

"Being with you is enough."

A flash of concern crossed the man's features. "I hope so."

Cautiously, she smirked and spoke plainly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Alistair's mouth jerked into an uncertain smile. "What kind?"

"One that I'm almost too embarrassed to share." With a sigh, she continued, "I've never been on a date before."

"Truly?"

"I said the Circle had little need for horses, well they had even less need for private outings, or romance."

"Right, the Circle: no horses, no privacy, and no dating. Sounds very dull."

"Dating, no, but there was… _coupling_ galore."

Alistair lifted the corner of his mouth. "I've heard as much."

She held up her hands to stop his wandering thoughts. "Let me clarify: I was _not_ doing the coupling, but I knew enough to stay out of the lower library in the evenings."

Alistair pondered this for a moment. "So, was Edmund your first…um, romance?"

"Yes." A shy smile passed over her lips, unsure of exactly what he was asking. "Have you had many… dates?"

"Not many, no." Alistair chuckled. "And I haven't caught the eye of a woman in some time."

Gwen laughed, meeting his honey-brown eyes with lingering mirth. "Maybe you just weren't paying attention."

Strolling around the tree, they again caught sight of the landscape and the village below, and were reminded of their destination. The sun was getting lower in the western sky and with haste, they'd make it to the tavern with time to spare.

.

With horses stabled, Gwen directed Alistair ahead of her, toward the tavern as she made use of the privy. All the way, she chided herself for drinking coffee throughout the day as a means to stay awake.

Pushing through the tavern doors, she was met by the sour scent of ale mixed with the hearty scent of roasting meat and other foods. Gwen immediately sought the source with hungry eyes, while simultaneously assessing the expansive room. The whole tavern was shaped like a large rectangle, and felt like a great-room of a hunting lodge.

Standing just inside the doors on one of two short walls, her gaze fell over everything. The roof was high and the beams open. There was no need for an inn with so many cabins and so the space above the rafters was open, save a small loft, across the building, opposite from where she stood. The fireplace at one long side of the room held a spit, and it looked like some type of large fowl was on the menu for the night.

The Inquisitor took a few steps into the hall.

Gazing up and spinning slowly, Gwen made a light gasp at the chandelier made entirely of antlers which hung high in the center of the space. Popping her eyes around she noticed in the far corner by the loft, a dark haired young man sat playing a soft melody on the lute. To her left, the bar ran half the length of the long side and was shiny and clean. There was a cheerful looking man wiping out a ceramic mug, who nodded to her as her eyes came across his. There were many tables, most of which were empty, but at each one was a lit beeswax candle and vase full of spring flowers. The light in the space was soft and warm.

Spanning the space again, her eye caught on her date, seated at a table with heavy wooden benches, near the huge hearth. He waved her over.

Before she sat, Gwen pulled her cloak to her back, revealing her hidden attire: a tanned leather corset over top of a lower-than-usual cut, cream linen blouse. The plunging neckline was done in delicate crochet lace which rested atop her modest-sized bosom.

Met with the view of her décolletage, Alistair tried to hide his obvious stare by reaching for his mug; he grabbed at it, coming up short by inches.

Then he overreached for it, knocking his hand into it clumsily and nearly tipping it over.

Using both hands, he steadied it and smiled up to the bewildered woman, resolutely locking his eyes on hers.

_Get a grip._

He clenched his teeth to steel himself and forced himself to relax back on the booth bench. Then she scooted in next to him, close enough that he could smell her light floral perfume.

_Maker's breath, that's good._

Deciding not to be distracted, Alistair pushed a ceramic beer stein toward her, blushing brightly. "I got you ale."

"Thank you." Humming with delight, she took a long sip and looked at him with a warm smile.

The man tried to make conversation, though distracted and trying not to stare down her blouse from his viewpoint. "I didn't know what you wanted to eat, so the barmaid will be back to list off what they have."

"Should we wait for Teagan?"

"Probably." Sighing, the man lifted his mug and drank deeply.

Afterwards, he eyed the room—not Gwen—attempting to calm himself down. "This is a nice place."

She lifted her foot from the floor and checked the bottom of her boot. "My feet don't even stick to the floor."

He chuckled. "The mark of a new tavern."

The pair fell into a silent assessment of the people and the tavern, feeling more at ease with every sip of ale and each moment immersed in the oddly enchanting atmosphere.

Well-dressed folks started coming into the tavern, and the noises of clanking mugs and soft conversations filled the space, adding to the ambience. The sun was setting outside, sending a dusky glow through the large windows. The barmaid went around with a tray full of lit candles in glass jars, placing two more on each table in preparation for sundown.

Several minutes later, their eyes fell on Teagan Guerrin, as he strolled into the room and found his party.

"Good evening." He bowed humbly at the pair, throwing his cloak over his shoulders and unclasping a golden domed brooch. A young brunette barmaid came to his side, taking the garment and flashing a tender smile to the Arl. "Thank you, Susanna."

Alistair and Gwen both stood at his arrival to their table, separating themselves, before greeting him with a handshake. The Warden wagged his eyebrows at his friend. "You've been here a day and you already know the staff?"

"It pays to be kind and to have an excellent memory, especially when it comes to those who are responsible for serving up your food." Teagan grinned, taking a seat across the table from them. "That's something my wife taught me, long ago."

Lifting his eyebrow, Alistair balked, "Your wife?"

The older man laughed aloud as the young barmaid returned with a tankard of ale. "We have much to catch up on."

.

The pair of men conversed at great length as Gwen watched, enraptured by the Grey Warden at her side. His mask had fallen almost completely away, and he wore his own personality with ease for the first time.

The man was youthful and inquisitive, asking his elder about his life and duty as Arl, stopping only when Teagan asked him a question or when filling his mouth with the delicious food served by the cook. Dinner and berry pie came and left, all the while the bar maid kept filling their mugs. Though sipping slowly, Gwen felt warm all over after her first two.

After dinner, the Inquisitor left the tavern to use the privy again, and on her way back, she peeked through the window. The men were still deep in conversation, so she strolled outside, relishing in the cool night air and enjoying the last bits of daylight fading from the sky.

In a moment of spontaneity, Gwen sat down on a bench outside the tavern and pulled out her personal journal. Scribbling the words in haste to fight the night closing in or perhaps because of the ale.

…

_24 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon_

_The Valley_

 

_So much for a romantic date. If there ever was to be one. I suppose I was only hoping it would be so._

_Sometimes, I dislike hope._

_Though, I must give Alistair his due: he told me about Teagan beforehand and tried to make it up to me along the way. Oh, who am I kidding? Could anyone stay upset with that man?  
_

_And especially tonight: the way he looks so exuberant and juvenile, and charming. I admit, I'm enjoying the show._

_I do wish I could have him all to myself tonight though._

_What does Sera say about wishing in one hand… and something in the other? Oh, right. Well, I'm not writing that in my journal. Laughably crude._

_There's plenty of time for getting to know him better in my travels._

_Yes, tomorrow we're back on the road, with all that entails. Days of travel with him and little more to do than ride and talk... and determine what exactly this is._

_Then, back to duty once we reach the Western Approach. Seeing Cassandra and Varric… and Hawke. And training… with Solas._

_I must remember his warning. Even writing it in here could be dangerous if someone were to read it.  
_

_I only wonder about Solas' words and guesses. I wonder if I'll be able to sleep tonight. And if I do, what will happen?  
_

_…_

As the light disappeared completely from the sky, lampposts outside were lit and she ducked back into the tavern to see the barkeep lighting large lanterns that hung along the walls indoors.

Walking with a fluid step, she saw that the lute player was joined by a young woman who played the flute, and the tunes turned lively, inspiring many in the crowd to begin dancing.

When she reached the table, there was a lull in their conversation and Alistair tilted his head, regarding Gwen for the first time since dinner. "Where did you go?"

"Just a short walk." She turned her body toward the doors, pointing. "The sun finally set."

"We've been talking for so long." Alistair moved over on the bench, patting the seat and flashing her a secret grin. He pushed her mug towards her, eyeing a bit of foamy ale in the bottom. "Here, have a seat and have another drink with us."

The Arl sipped his ale, aware of the time and portraying his remorse with apologetic eyes. "I'm deeply sorry; do you two have business?"

Stuttering, Alistair blushed. "No… nothing terribly important that it can't wait until we're on the road."

Teagan returned, meeting his eye with a hint of intrigue. "I'll be leaving tomorrow as well."

The Warden then looked between the two people before him, new questions on his mind. "What brought you here to meet with Gwen?"

Teagan turned to her with a lift of his eyebrow. "Am I allowed to tell him, _Inquisitor_?"

Her eyes scanned the room and satisfied, she nodded. "Keep it quiet as you do so."

After a deep breath, Teagan lost his former mirth. He lowered his voice until it could only be heard between the three of them. "Officially, I'm petitioning the crown to allow court mages to be placed among the nobility. Those who wish to board them will receive the benefits of such alliances in return. As a mage holding office, Lady Trevelyan's word holds sway, and she has graciously offered her full support."

Gwen smiled kindly, bowing her head to the Arl, and drinking the last swallow of her beer.

Teagan took a long draft of his ale and pressed his lips together in strife. "But unofficially, I'm bringing Connor home. Eamon misses the boy dearly."

Alistair's eyes jumped to Gwen. "Connor is here?"

The Inquisitor spoke, looking into her cup to see the last dregs of foam wash against the side. "He was. Leliana sent Connor and a few others out on a mission. They should return in a few days' time."

The Warden's eyes, full of suspicion, darted back to the Arl. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Gwen jerked her head to him, surprised. "Because of his brush with the demon? He was just a frightened boy, with no magical training, mind you."

Teagan chuckled diffusing the thin thread of tension, laying his hand over Alistair's forearm. "That was ten years ago and he hasn't had any incidents since. We've kept a careful eye on him."

Clearing his throat, Alistair quieted his voice. "I doubt the _Queen_ will feel sympathetic given her exile of the mages in Ferelden, very recently."

In a sudden diplomatic tip of his head, Teagan straightened his spine. "The Inquisition took the mages in, thank the Maker, and I believe Anora owes them a debt of gratitude. Lady Trevelyan and Leliana told me everything that transpired in Redcliffe. The mages were not at fault. Anora acted rashly and in an uncharacteristic fashion."

"But how will you control the mages without Templars?" Alistair met Gwen's eyes. "What does Commander Cullen say about this?

Gwen intervened, imploring Alistair to understand. "It needs to be revealed… delicately. This new order of mages will need our support, and I'd gladly ally them with the Templars, but you know as well as I do, their order has been taken over by Corypheus. Too few of them are left to do as you say."

Teagan added his opinion. "We all need to start trusting one another again. This is one step in the right direction."

Knowing he wasn't going to win the argument and unwilling to spoil the evening, Alistair nodded, lifting his mug to take a deep swallow.

The Arl smiled at Gwen, thanking her silently for her fervor and defense. His eyes made an obvious turn to the window, seeing the dark sky. "Forgive me, both of you, it turned night without my knowledge, and I have commandeered the conversation with talk of the past and impolite topics."

"Think nothing of it. I'm enjoying listening for a change, especially when the topic turns toward Alistair here." Dreamily, Gwen gazed at him, as his brow furrowed in irritation. She smiled at him, despite his scorn, seeing his handsome profile through an ale-induced, amorous fog.

Her heavy-lidded eyes watched the Warden carefully, as she'd done all night.

Alistair drained his tankard, letting it fall to the table roughly. His eyes found her sage-green ones and a smile started, winking at her subtly, his dour demeanor melting away.

" _Sweet Andraste_." Teagan muttered, his brow creasing for a moment as he realized that the two before him were more than mere colleagues. "How stupid of me."

Alistair piped up, turning with surprise to his friend. "What?"

"I should have seen it right away. I beg you, forgive me for breaking apart your evening." The Arl laughed cheerfully, scooting to the edge of his seat. He shook his head dumbfounded and extended his hands, gesturing to them both. "When did… _this_ happen?"

"Nothing has happened _yet_ , Teagan." The Warden blushed and shook his head feverishly, tugging on his ear in nervous habit. "We only met a few weeks ago."

His bright blue eyes darted between the two of them, and he nodded, a satisfied look on his face.

The Warden rose, rounding the table, patting his bladder tenderly. "I fear the ale has had its effect… and I'll be back in a moment." He cut through the room and bounded out the door.

Gwen smiled timidly at the perceptive Arl. "How did you know?"

"The way you looked at him and especially, he at you." For a moment, his smile dropped. "Once upon a time, he looked that way at… someone else."

She nodded in understanding, a pinch coming to her stomach. "Surana."

Canting his head, his brow wrinkled. "He's told you about _that_ already?"

Gwen blushed, "I ask a lot of questions, and he's an honest man, when duty doesn't interfere."

"He is that. Sometimes to his own blunder." Teagan laughed, turning his head as the music changed tune. "Did you tell you… _everything_ of his past?"

"Some of it still lies unearthed." Intrigued by the inflection in his voice, she cast her eyes up, studying his composed expression. It might be considered bad form to ask about Alistair's parentage, but she had a sure feeling that Teagan knew the truth. "He's been reluctant to tell me about… his parents, especially his father, and though I know fragments, the whole story eludes me."

Teagan nodded, pursing his lips in thought. The Inquisitor had revealed her level of knowledge. "I cannot say, Lady Trevelyan, on my honor as Alistair's friend."

She nodded sheepishly.

"This type of talk isn't appropriate for a lady, not in the least." Then, he stood up, offering his hand to Gwen. "May I take the lovely maiden to the dance floor?"

She rose reluctantly, looking around to the patrons. The ale helped set the decision, and she consented with a curtsy. "I must warn you: I'm terrible at this."

"Well, you're in luck; I'm considered an expert." He winked suavely and pulled her arm under his as they glided to the middle of the room surrounded by people.

Teagan was shorter than Alistair, and she could almost gaze into his eyes as they floated across the tavern floor. He was an excellent dancer, even after several mugs of ale, and Gwen was thankful for his lead.

With a final flourish, the Arl spun her gently, guiding her with a hand on her lower back, then facing her as the music slowed.

"Let's do another." His hand found her waist, and he held her a modest distance away, smiling as she darted her eyes to the side.

It was clear to Gwen that the folks noticed the Inquisitor among them, and she hoped to the Maker that there wouldn't be rumors about her and the Arl. Just in case, she pushed him away from her a little more.

Teagan noticed and readjusted. "He can be stubborn."

"Alistair?"

"His life has never been easy. Despite that, he became the good man you see over there. Don't let him push you away." He turned them so that she could glance over his shoulder to see the young man sitting at the table, smiling at her across the distance.

"I've tried to keep him close, regardless of his opinion on the matter." Gwen blushed and looked down to her feet. "We're trying a friendship first."

Teagan chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly. "That man knows very little about romance, other than the chivalric stories every Ferelden youngster grows up hearing. You may have to shake his foundations a bit."

The woman lowered her eyes, smiling at the thought.

His grip tightened on her hand, causing her to meet his solemn stare. "Once he realizes what he has in his grasp, he'll walk through the void to be with you."

"I…" Gwen started, unsure of what to say.

"No response is necessary; go to him." He released her from his arms, gave a stately bow, and followed her off the dance floor.

When they arrived at the table, Teagan interjected for the last time. "This old man needs his rest. I bid you both goodnight and good luck on your journey."

Alistair rose to greet them and took the older man's outstretched arm. "It was good to see you, and thank you, for allowing our lives to catch up to the present."

"Let's not let ten years go by before our next encounter."

"Agreed."

.

Teagan had long since left and the pair of friends set their gazes to the dance floor, watching the twists, dips, and turns with simple, silent delight. 

It wasn't that they were reluctant to entertain conversation, it was that they were unable. At first, they tried speaking, but the band had been joined by two percussionists who beat lowly on a skin drum and shook a wooden box which sounded as if it was filled with pebbles. They found it difficult to hear one another without drawing closer, which set about a whole different conundrum.

Gwen would watch Alistair's full lips move without knowing—or caring—what he was saying, and Alistair would notice how soft the skin of Gwen's cheek looked, or Maker forbid, steal a glance at her bosom. Their discourse would lull, but they'd stay close until one of them would feel the other's breath on their cheek and back away, exhaling and releasing a deep yearning into the open air.

So, they sat quietly at the table, each sipping their ale until at last, their tankards sat empty and there was nothing left to occupy the couple.

Gwen sat facing him, her elbow over the back of the bench. After what Teagan had said, she couldn't take her eyes from Alistair, now that they were alone.

"Do… you want to dance?"

Alistair turned to her and the corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes were just as dark and deep as she thought they'd be, and the light and shadow on his face made him look all the more enticing. Or maybe it was that last drink.

The man laughed. "I'm nowhere near as skilled as Teagan."

"No flourishes then." She giggled softly, pulling him up from the table. "I'm not sure if my fragile sense of balance could handle it anyway."

On the floor, he held her loosely, as he slipped his hand down to her waist. Her hand fit in the space between his shoulder and neck. Every touch between them was electric. The intensity was so strong that by the time they situated themselves, neither one could move more than a few shuffling steps.

"This is nice." Alistair leaned in, whispering into her ear, warming her to the ends of her fingertips, all the way down to her toes. She felt the flush of intoxication wash over her and she knew the ale was finally kicking in, full-force.

Gwen nodded, brushing against his cheek, unwilling to break the moment with the possibility of slurred words. He leaned back to gaze at her, his mouth forming a slow smile.

Stranger's eyes made their way from all corners of the tavern and landed on the pair as they drifted along with the music.

But Alistair and Gwen were in their own little realm. They stepped carefully beside one another's feet, moving with the slowed tempo of the music, which now seemed to echo from a great distance.

All the while, she kept at him with a longing stare, now unabashed by her obvious desire. The man took notice and creasing his brow, his grip strengthened on her waist as he inched her closer.

Gwen let out a soft moan, heavy with anticipation. It was drowned out to all ears but Alistair's. This only encouraged him to release her hand and tip her chin up to meet him.

His mouth was close, his breath was warm and rich with ale, and Gwen waited, closing her eyes to accept his first offered kiss.

But it didn't come. And then the music stopped for a long moment.

Alistair's hand fell, just as her eyes popped open. She tilted her head to one side.

"I, um, got carried away."

"It's okay." She murmured, still intoxicated by him and the ale. "We can wait, if you're not ready."

"It isn't that." The man smirked and looked at his feet to avoid her stare. "I'd prefer not to do this here."

Brazen, Gwen agreed. "Then why are we still standing here?"

.

Escaping from the tavern amid the whispering crowd and intervening drunken folk was easy with her bodyguard at her side. Gwen wished she'd learned a little stealth and perhaps balance from her rogue friends, as she stumbled half-drunk through the tavern doors, sighing loudly with relief.

Alistair held her arm protectively, directing them straight to the stables. He knew it was time to head back to Skyhold.

The half-moon shone above them, and illuminated the dark streets. Bold, Gwen dashed ahead of him, taunting him with a newfound giddiness. "I'll race you."

_So, this is Gwen Trevelyan, drunk._

He barked out a laugh and jogged to meet her, but she only dashed away again. Rolling up his sleeves, he set out to increase his odds and dodged down a side alley, intending to reach the stable before her by a more direct route.

The man entered the building and stopped to gaze down the first row of stalls, lit by a couple oil lamps along the wall. The Inquisitor was not there, and he chuckled to himself triumphantly.

"What took you so long, old man?"

Her voice came from inside, but he couldn't pinpoint her exact location. "What's gotten into you?"

She'd climbed a stack of straw bales and ducked down as he walked toward her. "A few mugs of ale."

Disapproving, Alistair hummed while still trying to find her in the darkness.

"What else could I do, between listening to you and the Arl?"

"You could have joined in." Continuing to walk, he peeked around the corner, almost out of her sight.

"Oh, no, watching you relax and loosen up was worth a little inebriation."

With a deep exhalation, she landed on her feet behind him and closed in until she was near enough to touch him.

Alistair's keen senses heard the soft pad of her foot and the rush of breath that she tried to quell. He waited for her to step closer and pivoted with agility, taking her arms gently to keep her from dashing away again.

With a grin, he pulled her to his chest and lowered his voice, though his tone stayed playful. "I've been relaxing for three damn days."

She laughed, turning her head to the side. "Things will change again, don't you worry."

"I'm not worried." Gently, he touched her chin and turned her face back to him until she met his eye. "I'm ready for a change."

Leaning forward, he slowly and deliberately touched his full lips to hers and she opened her mouth in response, nipping his upper lip.

Gwen felt him smile against her and snake his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him and bringing his mouth over hers again softly, slipping his tongue in experimentally. Nibbling gently on her bottom lip, he then planted soft kisses along her jawline. Her hands, which hung loosely on his forearms, slid up, feeling his muscles through the fabric of his tunic. Her mind wondered what his skin felt like underneath; smooth or rough, warm or cool?

Delicately, she crept across his shoulders to his neck, and ran her hand under his collar, splaying her fingers underneath. Smooth and warm _._ A longing pang hit her stomach and she let out a soft, satisfied noise.

At that, she was pulled back into a passionate kiss, and advancing, he walked her backwards until she hit the stable wall. Her hands laid on his chest and she clutched his shirt.

"Sorry." With deep breaths, Alistair pulled a half-step away and braced himself on extended arms. He sent her an almost shameful stare. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Gwen shook her head, grinning in the low light. "I'm not that fragile."

The man grunted cheerily and tilted his head to the horses. "I should get you back home."

"I don't think I can ride… can we... stay in one of the cabins for the night?"

In a good-natured, cautious tone, he responded, "Not a good idea."

Gwen fell forward against him, pulling at the lacing of his shirt until she saw the light swath of chest hair. Quietly, she sighed. "I have this terrible feeling I'm going to fall off the horse."

"Then, you'll ride with me."

Gwen nodded, placated by his offer. "Ever the gentleman."

"Always."

.

Standing by the fire, Gwen pulled the kettle out with a thick pad to protect her hand from the heat. She dropped the loose tea leaves into a ceramic pot and poured the steaming water over it.

The scent of chamomile rose into the air and mingled with the wood smoke. Gazing at her guest, she smiled sweetly. "You look tired."

Reclining on her sofa, by the fire, Alistair ran his hand over his hair and chuckled. "I am."

Gwen perched on the arm of the sofa and stared into the busy flames of the fire. "Stay with me."

The man brought his hands over his face and sighed. "We can't—"

Gwen chuckled softly as she rose to pour a cup of tea for herself and Alistair. "That kiss was… incredible, but I'm not asking for anything else… _physical_ right now."

"Well, I'm very out of practice with this sort of talk." Accepting the offered cup, he met her eyes and furrowed his brow. "How about you tell me exactly you are asking."

Dropping the smile, Gwen sat down next to him and peered at him with an imploring desperation. "I just don't want to be alone. I—I had another dream last night and I feel safe with you here." Thoughts of the Fade came to her and she wanted to tell him the truth, but she didn't dare. She blew the steam across the cup and took a test sip.

Alistair sipped the tea with a concerned brow. "Another shared dream?"

"It was just unsettling. Today, I thought I was okay with it, but in truth, I'm... afraid."

"Have you talked to Solas? He was supposed to figure this all out."

"He's still working on it."

Pausing, the man stared past her with narrowed eye, his thoughts returning to his conversation with the elf. He drank down the cup of tea, placing the empty mug on the side table. Then he met her sage-green eyes, he softened and put his hand on her knee, reassuring her. "I'll stay, but only until you fall asleep."

"Thank you," she let loose a sigh of relief and leaned into him, sipping her tea slowly.

Alistair put his arm over her shoulders and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. His eyes found the flames and deep in thought, he watched the wood smolder away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, readers!


End file.
